


2 AM Party

by Blackarrow_bagels1



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Child Neglect, Established Relationship, Established logicality, Human AU, M/M, Remus and Jan aren't sympathetic in the first half of this, Self Harm, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Thomas is a cat, Verbal Abuse, abuse is shown, abuse is talked about, slow (?) burn prinxiety, sorry about false advertising?, there are also physical fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:09:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 60,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackarrow_bagels1/pseuds/Blackarrow_bagels1
Summary: Virgil moves to a new apartment after his old roommates scare him too much. He's warming up to his brother, Patton, brother's boyfriend (Logan), and a new guy (Roman). Virgil's life is getting better, when his old roommates show up again, and cause problems.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 111
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written something that wasn't a one-shot before, but I'm really excited! I've got the plot all figured out, and a ridiculous amount of time on my hands now. I have no consistent update schedule, but I also have nothing else to do. Not sure how many chapters this will be, and I don't know how to get AO3 to know this has more chapters. 
> 
> Feel free to comment, even if it's not much. I love hearing feedback!

The rain outside was steady, driving off any wanderers. The only people out were those coming home, but even then, there were very few. The hour was late, the sun was gone, and only cold air filled the void. The street was mostly empty, with everyone curled up in their apartments. Despite closed windows and hostile blinds, warm marigold light bled from the apartments, through wall cracks, under doors, around window frames. It didn’t make up for the dark street-light, but it was enough.

Enough for the one pedestrian. He gripped his coat against the cold air, kept his head down amidst the rain. His hat caught most of the water, but every now and then a stray drop struck his face. Raising a yellow glove, Janus wiped away the careless drop. The cold night wasn’t unusual, but he rushed home nonetheless. He approached the only apartment not leaking golden light, and tried the door. Locked. He knew someone was home, but the door remained obstinately shut. Using a sand colored key, Janus unlocked the door.

Instantly, the scent of burnt something greeted the man as he flipped on the lights. While returning his cloak and hat to a coat closet, he started to speak. He was announcing himself in a calm tone, loud enough to get the attention of any residents, but low enough that the neighbors wouldn’t hear. He had perfected this voice, knowing what exact decibels would alert his roommates without scaring them. Only one was home, but that was normal.

Slowly, Vergil wheeled into view, moving purple headphones to rest around his neck. His wheelchair was silent, and the man was equally quiet. Janus regarded his roommate, noticing the purple hoodie. Verge had been wearing it for days now.

“Remus got here early,” Vergil finally said. He started to move back to wherever he had been before Janus got home (probably his room), and was replaced by another figure. Running at full speed, Remus tackled Janus into the wall, hugging his roommate fiercely. Janus patted the man with a gloved hand, allowing a small smile to slink onto his face. It had been a long day, but Remus’ excitement was comforting.

After a moment, Remus let go, revealing his appearance. He was only wearing briefs and a single sock. Repressing a sigh, Janus moved further into the house, only half listening to Remus filling him in on the day’s events.

“We finished shooting early, so I beat the rain. I thought Small, Dark, And Emo would’ve been happy to see me but he was working so I decided to eat something. I made some for you, if you check the kitchen. It’s a new creation, but I really outdid myself this time.”

To Janus’ mild surprise, Vergil was in the kitchen space, absent-mindedly munching on a piece of pizza while looking at his laptop. The entire apartment smelled of burning, but it was strongest in here. A can of hairspray, lighter, and fire-extinguisher lay on the table next to Vergil’s laptop. Deciding not knowing was better, Janus opened a small refrigerator and grabbed a pre-made salad. The Starbucks outside of his office sold them infrequently, but he had snatched one earlier this morning.

Cracking open the plastic, Janus sat next to Vergil. Remus had stopped talking, retreating to his room with a paper plate full of something that looked very burnt. Janus waited until Remus was out of earshot before speaking.

“Vergil, I’m beginning to believe that you were born in that hoodie.” At that, the youngest roommate looked up, making eye contact.

“You’re already wearing gloves, why don’t you do the dishes tonight?” His retort was sharp, but playful. Vergil smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Janus laughed, and ate. Vergil was recounting a moment from earlier that day, something about a spider in his room. Remus would be back in time, once he had finished whatever he was doing. Savoring the moment, Janus finished his dinner and checked the time on his phone. 10:34. They were technically done working, but their job had only just begun.


	2. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Sides get to work

Remus joined Janus and Vergil at the kitchen table later in the night. He smelled repugnant as usual, but didn't seem to notice. He pulled a chair behind Vergil, and then sat on the back support. Despite being keenly aware that Remus could easily fall, Vergil didn't say anything. Remus never sat on a chair correctly, despite his roommate's pleas.

Janus checked the time again. 1:59 AM. Time to begin. Vergil typed something on his laptop, securing that they couldn't be spied on. They were ready. 

Janus opened a briefcase. The outside was wet, but the papers inside were bone-dry. Grabbing a stack that was carefully held together by a dandelion hue paperclip, Janus started to read. He had spent his work day defending the guy- Joshua Gibbons- in court. He was the CEO of a company that offered artists sponsorships online. When his predatory marketing practices came under scrutiny (some reporter had exposed him), he immediately hired the best lawyer in the town. While not at the head of the company, Janus did work there, and had worked his ass off that day defending the guy. Now, it was time.

Vergil's fingers typed quickly, bypassing bank security codes with ease. In a matter of moments, he was looking at the bank statements that Gibbons reported. He paused, turning to look behind him. Remus was still perched on the chair (incorrectly), humming. The tune was erratic and clearly a Remus Original, but his feet (now both in green socks, but neither matched) danced. His eyes were bright as a small smirk covered his face. Janus smiled, recognizing when Remus had a truly devious idea, and waited. Remus stopped humming, and his feet stopped moving.

"Why stop with his company?" Remus asked, not waiting for an answer. "Let's destroy his life. FIRST!" Remus stood on the chair, to add emphasis, "We get what he loves most- money!"

Vergil smiled. Recently, Remus had been advocating for dangerous ideas, but leaking his bank statements wouldn't be too harmful. The guy had made his money by stealing from artists- he deserved to get stolen from, right? Vergil started typing, transferring bank statements and other damning proof of his financial crime to a public file. He copied the evidence, in case the information was taken down. He could send it to a journalist, if need be. 

"THEN!" Remus jumped off the chair, landing far from his roommates, but spinning quickly to face them. His voice dropped an octave, revealing how serious he was. "We get personal."

Janus began laughing, too loud to notice Vergil stop typing. 

"Excellent idea, Remus!" The lawyer's tone was gleeful, gloved hands clenched in excitement. "We start with the man, then move to his wife-"

Vergil's eyes widened. "Wait- Ja-" he stuttered, trying to stop his roommate. Janus wouldn't be stopped, however, already planning how to ruin Gibbon's kid's lives. Remus laughed along, getting closer to watch Vergil hack. The two were at his sides now, holding him, trapping him, touching-

Vergil tried to shake off Remus' hand (it had moved onto Verge's shoulder, when did it get there) but was stopped. Remus' other hand held Vergil's wrist in a vice-grip, beginning to cut of circulation. Breathing heavier, Vergil looked into his captor's eyes. They were wild, full of creativity and determination and rage.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked, suddenly letting go of Vergil's hand. Taking advantage of this, Vergil wheeled backwards quickly, trying to escape his roommates. They were both looking at him, curiosity in Remus' eyes, malice in Janus'.

"What, do you feel bad for him?" Janus asked, mockingly. His face contorted into fake sympathy, and he clapped his hands together. "I'm Vergil, and I think it's fine when bad people don't face consequences," he dropped the act, placing his gloved hands on the table. "C'mon, Verge, you know why we're doing this. He deserves it!"

Vergil shook his head. Janus was trying to manipulate him. "Jan, this is too far. Exposing him is one thing, but targeting his family? His kids? That's too far." Vergil's hands gripped the rims of his wheelchair, preparing to move. He maintained eye contact with Janus, ignoring the panic attack he could feel beginning. He was shaking.

Janus was perfectly still. After a moment that felt like hours, he exhaled sharply. Getting to his feet in a swift movement, he walked to where Vergil was sitting.

"Fine. If you won't listen to reason, I won't try anymore." He leaned down, whispering, "But THIS is not over."

That was too much. Vergil started hyperventilating, the panic taking over. He closed his eyes, small tears squeezing out. A shaking hand wiped them away, but it wasn't enough. His looked around, but his roommates were gone. They must have retreated back to their rooms. He was disoriented, the room spinning. He couldn't breathe. There was something in his throat, stopping him. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. His heart was beating faster than it ever had. 

Vergil woke up in the kitchen. His head ached, and his body was tense. Slowly reorienting himself, Vergil saw a window. Light was beginning to intrude- the sun was coming up. He tried to remember what had happened, realizing that he must've blacked out last night. He remembered the panic attack first, being abandoned by his friends when he needed them, and then-

And then the fight. Janus' words sent a shiver down his spine. Vergil shook it off, and began to move for his room. It wasn't too far, and he needed to get real sleep. Moving through the kitchen, he noticed that a few knives were gone. One lay on a counter by the sink. Under it was a note, from a legal pad.

"You're in trouble."

The lime script was clearly Janus', large cursive dotting the "I" with an x. Vergil reminded himself that Janus was usually dramatic, overstating what he meant constantly. Wheeling past the note, Vergil approached his room, but stopped short.

Sunk deep into his door, another note of warning was written in lime pen. "Watch your back." It had been fastened to the door with another knife, buried deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spooky stuff!
> 
> Here are some notes I freakin forgot to say in the first chapter:
> 
> While fandom says Vergil's name is spelled "Virgil," I spell it with an "e" because in my Latin class, my teacher didn't care how we spelled Vergil's name, and I knew some kids who spelled it with an "e." 
> 
> I'm getting to the light sides soon, I promise! Next chapter. I don't know when that'll be, but let's assume within the next 24 hours (I'm bored in quarantine).


	3. familial moxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Virgil catch up. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: This chapter has swearing, some descriptions of child neglect/abuse, and light homophobia (implied) (but it also ends with gays being happy).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to spell "Virgil" but I won't promise any success. Turns out that the light sides weren't in this one as much as i thought they'd be, but we'll get there. The next chapter will be about Virgil and Roman. We'll see how long I can make a slow burn last.
> 
> I don't know when the next update will be, but it will be soon. The weekend is tomorrow, and I usually spend that with my family, but who knows!

"Hey V! It's your brother.... again. It's the weekly text! I'm always here if you want to talk!"

Virgil's phone buzzed. It was on time and said the same thing it always said. Virgil smiled at the phone, reading the familiar text with hope. He did need someone to talk to, especially today.  
\--

Patton had woken up early, far too early for his liking. He worked in the kitchen today, so his alarm clock had been set for 4:00 AM. Company policy asked that the bread be in the oven at 6, so the bread-maker had to be up at 4. Before the intrusive, shrill beeping could wake up the entire apartment, Patton had switched it off. He was technically a morning person, but waking up before the sun did made him groggy.

He silently got out of bed, careful not to wake the other inhabitant. Patton donned his glasses, taking a moment to behold his beloved in the bed. Logan used one arm to hold the sheet, the other to hold what had been Patton's pillow. His hair was messy, but he looked peaceful. A small cat, mostly black with white paws, had curled up near Logan's chest, taking advantage of the warmth Patton had to leave behind. With a content sigh, Patton started to get ready for work.

Finally fitting the heavy loaves into the oven, Patton took a break. He was the only one in the store this early, and the lights were off. No need to spend energy where it wasn't needed. The sun was rising, peeking through the windows. The sky was streaked with purple clouds. The mauve background faded into a soft blue light. The sun was making its way up the sky, and Patton was making his way through the day.

Around 10, he texted Virgil. While they hadn't seen each other face to face in years, he knew that the text was reassuring. Virgil would choose to meet him again, and Patton wanted to be ready. He had been sending this text, every Saturday morning, for several years. Sometimes he would get texts back, but usually it was met with silence.

Patton was older, about five years older, and their parents hadn't always been... well, great. They argued a lot, sometimes throwing things. They hadn't even noticed when Virgil snuck out, only 13 years old, and came back smelling suspiciously like weed. Patton had noticed, and interrogated his brother mercilessly. In his heart, Pat knew he shouldn't have been so strict or mean, but he was worried. Virgil hadn't gotten high, but his friends had. That night the boys argued as loud as their parents did.

Thinking back over the years, they had argued a lot. Brothers were supposed to, weren't they? Who's toothbrush was green, who got the last fruit-roll-up, if Virgil's friends were good people, why Virgil's grades were falling, if Patton's boyfriend really loved him, the list went on and on. Brothers were supposed to argue, supposed to fight, but not like this. The last argument they had, only a few weeks after the Weed Argument, had been nasty.

Neither parent was home, but that wasn't unusual. Their mom was probably still working, and their dad was out... somewhere. He'd come home at some time. Patton had cook what could be considered dinner (there wasn't much in the fridge) but Virgil loved it. Sitting down with a paper plate, Patton tried to break the news.

"I'm going out of state. For college," he added the last part after seeing Virgil's eyes widen. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, and neither brother could look each other in the eye.

"So that's it?" Virgil asked, voice soft. He was angry, but didn't want to show it. He didn't want to show a lot of emotion, but Patton could read his tells. Virgil's hands were clenched, knuckles white, and his breathing was heavy. "You're just going to leave?"

"You know that's not fair-" Patton started, but he was interrupted.

"Fair? This isn't fair! You get to leave whenever you want, you don't have to be here, like I do! You're not stuck in this fucking hellhole like I am!" Virgil was looking him in the eyes now, shouting in anger. 

Patton stood up, sharply. "Hey, watch your language. I swear, your friends are rubbing off on you too much..." As soon as he said it, Patton knew he had gone too far. Virgil had come homes less and less (of course their parents hadn't noticed) because he was hanging with his friends for longer and longer. Patton did like them, one was far too immature and the other... he gave off a creepy vibe. Virgil insisted that his friends were fine, nicer than Patton even, but that didn't ease any fears. 

"At least they care about me!" Vergil didn't stand, but he puffed his chest in anger. He was still small, having not hit any growth spurts yet, but his anger filled out his small frame. "They talk to me outside the house, they don't mind that I'm gay, they help me through panic attacks... They wouldn't leave me for some stupid college!"

Patton isn't proud of his response. It's a low blow and motivated by anger. And he didn't mean to shout it, either.

"If you like them so much, why don't you go live with them!" 

The next morning, Virgil had been gone. His half of the bedroom was almost barren, and the door was open. He had taken his brother's advice.

Patton's college experience was better, but the guilt of his last argument was heavy on his shoulders. His roommate was a theater major, and always brought a smile to Patton's face. They roomed together for two years, slowly decorating the walls with different motivational posters. As part of his culinary school requirements, Patton had to take a chemistry class. While awful at chemistry, he had a study partner who was wonderful, and never hesitated to help. He was also rather dashing, as Patton's roommate remarked. He would meet one more person up a school, who completed their friend group with a cheerful grin, and studying psychology. The guy wanted to be a therapist, but his love of cartoons lead to all four boys watching Steven Universe instead of studying. With Roman, Logan, and Emile by him, Patton was happy.

Some time in his senior year, Patton downloaded twitter onto his phone. While Roman was showing him how to follow people (Patton was awful with technology), he found something special. The profile was a spider, with a purple background. The bio was minimal, only saying name, pronouns, and favorite band (Virgil, he/him, My Chemical Romance). Patton tried tweeting him, hoping with a passion he didn't know he had that this was his Virgil. 

After a few weeks, and lots of tweets, Patton had gotten his brother's phone number. Not wanting to intrude too much, he tried to text Virgil only once a week.

Patton hadn't noticed the time fly away, but the creaking of the bakery's door yanked him back to the present. Roman was running in, money in hand, about to request the usual. His hair was uniquely messed up, but it was clear he was in a hurry. Patton served him a small breakfast and watched him rush out the door, cressant in mouth.

When lunch break came, it was far past lunch time. The lunch rush hadn't been as large as yesterday's, but the amount of people was still more than the bakery had seats for. Taking off his apron and sitting in a break room folding chair, Patton checked his phone again. One text from Virgil.

"Can you call me?"

Patton immediately called his brother, listening to the ring on the other side with baited breath.

"Hey," Virgil said, his voice small. It was deeper than Patton remembered.

"Hey Verge! What's up?" Patton nearly shouted into the phone, elated.

"Uh, can... how've you been?"

"I'm great! One of my roommates just moved out- he's going to grad school- so the apartment's a little more empty than usual. Otherwise I'm fine, how are you?"

"I'm... I'm ok."

Patton patiently waited for Virgil to add onto that. In the growing silence, the realization of what Patton said dawned on him.

"I'm glad you called me, Verge. I've been feeling alright, but I really wanted to talk to you."

Virgil laughed. "You called me, remember?"

"Yeeeaaah, but you asked me to call you!"

"I've been... well, I've been better. Uh, you said a roommate moved out?"

"Mhm! Emile, he's going back to school so he can be a therapist." 

"That's cool. I, um, I need- would yo- Could I-" Virgil's nerves were getting to him again, causing the question to stick in his throat. He picked at the purple hoodie's frayed sleeves, feeling the small thread between his fingers.

"It's ok, Verge. Take your time." Patton tried to encourage him, recognizing the panic in his brother's voice. They hadn't talked in a decade, but Patton's paternal nature hadn't forgotten. 

Virgil took a deep breath, thankful that he could breathe now (unlike last night). "Could I... move in with you? It doesn't have to be long, it's just that my roommates are scaring me and I can't sleep or think and-" The words were coming out faster and faster, having finally gotten past the question he didn't want to ask. Terrifyingly, Patton was silent for a moment. Virgil's thoughts raced in his head, screaming about how he had ruined it, how he moved to quickly, how his brother was only doing this out of pity, how he was useless, how he was a burden, how-

"Virgil? I would love nothing more." Patton's words were even, his voice calming. Verge could hear the smile behind them.

"Is your apartment wheelchair accessable?" Virgil asked.

"It is! Oh, I should tell you, my boyfriend and I are living together, and another guy. He's really nice, I bet you'll get along just fine. And we have a cat, Thomas, who's sooo cute- I'll send you a picture hold on!"

Patton spent the rest of his lunch break catching up with Virgil, sharing pictures of Thomas in places he shouldn't have been (in Logan's backpack, under Patton's apron, posing as Hamilton in front of Roman's posters).


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil moves in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I'm stupid! I genuinely thought that yesterday was Friday, so when I said that the weekend was coming up and I maybe couldn't update as frequently, I was being a buffoon. Happy Wednesday, I guess. Time has no meaning now.
> 
> I found the Sides playslists on Spotify and haven't stopped listening to them for a WEEK. I like Logan's the most, but the music I listen to usually is most like Virgil's. Also, Jesus christ Janus, he's so extra and his playlist is extravagantly chaotic evil. I love him so much.
> 
> The spanish word in this chapter means "PRIDE." I looked it up on Google Translate, because I didn't take Spanish in high school (like I said, I'm stupid), so there's a high probability that's not actually the word for pride. Feel free to correct me in the comments.
> 
> One of my favorite types of tiktoks is the kind where a burglar/robber enters the house and finds some Gen Z kid insomniac still awake. I think about that exact scenario everytime I'm awake past 1. Basically, I think about it constantly.
> 
> This chapter contains a little fighting, some arguing, one (1) swear word, and starts the slow burn!

Virgil didn't have many things. Patton arrived at the apartment late in the afternoon (he had to get off work and run a few errands) with a minivan. Virgil had been packing all day, stuffing different clothes and sentimental things into boxes Remus had left around the house. Remus wouldn't miss them, and Jan would be happy the space was getting cleaned up. Virgil was trying to justify his impromptu move. He'd done this before, about ten years ago. His roommates were also runaways, they'd understand... right?

Once everything had been moved into the van, Patton started driving across town. Virgil sat in the passenger seat, wheelchair partially taken apart and resting in the backseats. 

"So," Virgil started, unsure where his sentence was going. "Do you have any music?" Internally, he groaned. It was a lame question.

Patton smiled, and pushed a CD into the player, which rested at an unstable angle on the dashboard. The light blue minivan had a radio, but Patton was so awful with technology, that he used a separate CD player. Two taught strands of masking tape held down the contraption, straining to keep it in place as the car bumped along the road.

Virgil had gotten a look at the CD before it disappeared into the machine. In a circular font, with teal sharpie, it was labeled "For Patton." He suppressed a smile, remembering when he first gave it to his brother. Cheerful, if dated, music began to fill the silence of the van, slowly eroding the nervousness Virgil felt. He was moving into a new place. He'd never taken care of a cat before. He didn't know any of his roommates. He didn't know any of the local places. How far was the nearest hospital? Or grocery store? What if there was a fire?

"So Logan can help you move in," Patton began, glancing at Virgil through the corner of his eyes. "Roman's at work all day. But it'll be alright, you can meet him later." Virgil held his breath for a moment, unsure of how to phrase what he was thinking.

"Are your friends ok with me moving in? I don't even know them, and I don't leave the place too much and-" He hadn't realized he didn't breathe until Patton interrupted him.

"They're want you to move in! The place is empty without another person, and they'll be nice to you. Also, we could use some help paying rent... oh! A tunnel- Hold your breath!" Patton pushed Virgil's shoulder, laughing.  
\--

Moving in hadn't been to physically stressful, but it was emotionally fraught. True to Patton's word, Logan had tried to help them move all the boxes. The guy was tall and wore fancy clothes indoors (including a neck tie?) but his glasses and soft smiles around Patton put Virgil at ease. He looked like a garden-variety nerd, but Virgil looked like a garden-variety emo, so he shouldn't really judge. Occasionally, Thomas the cat appeared in a window, watching the commotion outside with cool indifference. After a few minutes he decided to nap, laying down in the afternoon sunlight. Maybe Virgil would like living with a cat. 

Patton gave Virgil a small tour of the apartment. Facing the door was a hallway, with doors on either side. The one on the left was Logan and Patton's, the one on the right would be his and Roman's. At the end of the hallway were two open spaces. One was a kitchen, the other was a small room with a television, table, and chairs. That was the common area, incase you didn't want to be in the kitchen, bedroom, or hallway. There was a small door by one of the chairs, which lead to the bathroom. It wasn't a large apartment, but the space was cozy. Thomas continued to nap under the window, stretched out on the main table.

Virgil began to move into his room, noticing how a bed frame and small set of drawers were left. They were light pink in color, apparently a hold over from Emile. Logan excused himself (he had more work to do) and disappeared around the corner. Patton continued to move boxes into the room, and opened a few.

"Ok kiddo, looks like that's it. Do you want help unpacking?" He asked, eyeing the bed. It was a little taller than what Virgil was used to, but he could manage. Maybe it would be better. Virgil shook his head. He wanted some time alone. Patton nodded, hugged Virgil (it was a little awkward, last time they tried this Virgil was much smaller) and left the room. 

Looking around, Virgil wasn't so sure about his roommate. Different broadway show and Disney movie posters covered the walls. Red sheets adorned a small bed, trying to make the regular furniture appear regal. Different books and papers littered a single nightstand. The nightstand itself was painted several bright colors, and glitter appeared to be haphazardly thrown at it. A rainbow flag hung from the ceiling, with "ORGULLO" written in black calligraphy. The walls were cream white, but the light from a single window over Virgil's bed reflected around the room, casting it with all sorts of colors.

Virgil sighed and began to unpack. He took a huge risk today, but it would be fine. Logan seemed nice, if a little stuck up, Patton was excited, and he was far from Remus and Janus. He was uncomfortable, but safe. He could work on getting comfortable. Thomas the cat poked his head through the door, investigating the bedroom. After stalking around the red bed a few times, he jumped into one of Virgil's boxes (it was empty) and meowed. Virgil could get used to this.  
\--

Night was worse. Most of his stuff was unpacked, the room was neat, but Virgil's unease was eating at him. The move was terrifying. He hadn't even told the others that he was leaving. What if they called the cops on him? What if they went searching for him themselves? What would they do if they found him? Would they hurt his new roommates? Did he put his brother in danger? Would Patton get sick of him?

He was an insomniac, but not usually this stressed. He had been on his back, in bed, for hours now, going over all the possible (and a few impossible) terrible situations. Feeling a pang of hunger in his stomach, Virgil started to get up. He heaved his legs off the bed, transitioned into his wheelchair, and checked his phone. 

2:04 AM.

He set his phone down on the night stand, when a slow creaking startled him.

Someone was entering the apartment. They were moving quietly, clearly trying to not wake the inhabitants. Virgil's body was frozen in fear. Recognizing that he was beginning to have a panic attack, he tried to take action. He grabbed the heaviest object he could find (a hard cover book that contained the script to CATS!- it was his roommates') and prepared himself.

The door's handle turned slowly, barely making noise. The door itself pushed open even slower, trying to avoid any creaks. They were trying to be stealthy. Virgil poised his arm. He wasn't much of an athlete, but he could guess where the person's body would be. And he could be ready for them.

As the door opened more, Virgil saw his chance. It was hard to see in the dark, but the shadows were darkest around where the figure of a man was. The figure of a familiar man. Launching the book, Virgil realized who he threw the projectile at.

Remus. 

He had found Virgil. Janus wouldn't be far behind. He was here to get revenge. Virgil had gone to far last night, he'd angered his only friends and now they were back. Thoughts of how they'd get back at him danced through his mind as the book sailed through the air, making contact with Remus' face. 

"Ah! What the-" The figure sputtered, pushing the door open quickly and entering the room. Virgil's panic set in, but he was invigorated. He grabbed whatever was near him and started throwing. Sweatshirts, a broom, more books, an empty moving box- they all berated Remus as he tried to get farther and farther into the room. Unfortunately for Virgil, these weren't enough. Remus swatted the projectiles out of his face, catching a few in the air, and strided towards Virgil.

Panic was replaced with fear. This was it. This was how he died. Tears sprang to his eyes, and his heart began to beat irregularly. He had one last resort. Meaning to shout, but in all actuality, croaking, Virgil pleaded.

"Remus, please. Stop!"

The figure stood still in the middle of the room, for one moment. Then it shrieked.

"REMUS! R E M U S !"

It didn't sound like Remus. As the figure staked for a lamp, which rested on Virgil's roommate's nightstand, he was still angry. His entire figure was tense, and the light from the lamp didn't help. 

Sure enough, this wasn't Remus. But the guy certainly looked like him. A cleaner, if more tired version of Remus. He had similar mannerisms, shoulders hunched in anger while his jaw was quivering. Before he could say something, a clam voice interrupted the moment.

"Roman! You're home!" Patton's voice was calm, and the lamp's light barely stretched to his smile. It looked forced. "Meet your new roommate, my brother, V-" 

Roman interrupted him before Patton could say Virgil's name. "THIS is the guy? He attacked me!" Roman gestured to the scattered stuff on the floor. "He ASSSULTED me in my own HOME and he's our new ROOMMATE?"

Well. The guy was just as dramatic as Virgil had imagined. As the two roommates looked at each other, realization dawned. Remus had a twin brother, who he hated. The guy was an overdramatic, egocentric, asshole named Roman. Looking into Roman's hazel eyes, Virgil saw a similar epiphany happening. They'd "met" a few years ago, shortly before Remus ran away. They had pulled an elaborate prank (Remus' idea), nearly setting the house on fire. Janus had been there, and was the reason they got away before the cops arrived.

Patton entered the room, taking a few step towards Roman. Logan came to the doorway, glasses askew. Both probably got up when they heard shouting. Patton was saying something to Roman, whispering calmly and slowly leading the guy to his bed. Roman sighed, leaning back onto his bed. His entire body slouched. God, he looked tired. Patton mentioned that he'd worked all day. 

Eventually, Patton and Logan returned to bed, closing both doors. Virgil and Roman were alone. Each regarded the other silently. General distaste was pained over Roman's face. Virgil's face was probably the same. After a long moment, Roman got under the covers. He was still in his work uniform, but Virgil didn't mention it.

Roman exhaled sharply. "I've never been happy to work all day, until now." He said, casting a sideways glance at Virgil. The insult was weak.

"At least I have taste," Virgil responded, getting back into his bed. His half of the room was covered in darker colors, with a black bed spread and dark purple being the main color in his wardrobe. His style was coherent, not a mishmash of colors. 

Roman sighed indignantly, and turned his back to Virgil. One long arm reached to turn out the light, submerging the room in darkness.


	5. A chill party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few weeks, Virgil has gotten into a rythm with his roommates. However, when Logan can't sleep, they have a nice, if impromptu, chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's late. I don't have a schedule, but I try to start writing before/around 11 AM in my time zone. I would've started earlier today, but I was petting my dog.
> 
> It just occurred to me that I'm investigating why I ship logicality in this chapter.

When Virgil woke up, he was alone. Patton had left notes around the apartment, telling him how to feed Thomas, who would get home first (Logan) and that there was some food in the fridge, if he was hungry. Each note was finished with a small smiley face. Patton was really trying to make Virgil feel welcome.

After feeding Thomas, Virgil went to work. He had taught himself different coding languages, and did mostly freelance work. He could pick his hours, so long as he met deadlines. This was perfect for an insomniac.

Logan got home first, as Patton said he would, and worked at the table in the common room. After a few hours, Patton got home. He interrogated both men about their days. Logan was working on his doctorate in chemical engineering, but spent his days teaching undergrad chemistry students. Virgil explained that he worked as a coder, for whoever would hire him. Patton nodded, not really understanding. 

Patton made "dinner" (if that's what you called sandwiches that were more cheese than bread) and went to bed. He had to get up early the next morning, again. Logan eventually went to bed, too. He muttered something about maintaining a healthy sleep schedule to Virgil.

Virgil was still awake when Roman got home, again early in the morning. The two regarded each other silently, not wanting to wake up their roommates. Last night had been a mistake. Roman quietly moved around the space, fixing a snack before he went to sleep. As he did, he started to take off his clothes, apparently not wanting to sleep in his work uniform. Remus said his brother was weird, and Virgil was starting to understand just what that meant.

As the taller man stalked off to bed, he muttered something just loud enough that Virgil could hear. "You're still here, Dracula?"

Virgil snorted. Another weak insult. He watched as Roman walked away, watching how his under shirt was wrapped around his broad shoulders. He'd seen Remus shirtless countless times (Remus didn't really believe in wearing clothes indoors), but his brother was completely different. Pushing the thought out of his mind, Virgil continued working.  
\--

Weeks went by like this. Patton's job as a baker for half the week, and a volunteer at the local animal shelter for the other days kept him on a strange sleep schedule. Virgil barely saw his brother while the sun was up, but at least they talked at night. Logan's research took place mostly on the weekends, but teaching meant he needed a Normal Person's sleep schedule. They barely talked, preferring to work near each other in pleasant silence. Roman would get home late at night every day. Every night he'd have a new snide comment (when did he come up with these), and sometimes Virgil would fire one back. Thomas was a quiet cat, preferring the company of whoever was awake. Sometimes he'd nestle in Virgil's lap, napping for hours at a time. Virgil envied the cat. He wished he could sleep that peacefully.  
\--

Virgil's insomnia was acting up again. Just as he'd figured out a pattern of living, it decided to annoy him again. He hadn't noticed how long he'd been working, until Logan joined him at the table. The nerd covered a small yawn, tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, and himself coffee.

"Do you want any?" he asked, gesturing to the brewing pot. Virgil shook his head. Coffee made him jittery, and he didn't need another reason to be awake right now. Logan grabbed a stack of papers, and a blue pen. He took a seat across from Virgil, silent except for when the pen squeaked.

"What are you doing up?" Virgil asked, noticing the time. 2:36. Logan shouldn't be awake right now, it was a Wednesday (technically Thursday).

"Couldn't sleep," Logan responded, circling something. 

The conversation should've ended there, but the night had a different agenda. The cool spring air blew against the closed windows. The coffee pot burbled contentedly, and the world was asleep. The moon outside offered light on the empty street, illuminating it as brightly as the sun had just hours ago. This light was different, though. Softer, somehow, like the tender heat from a sleeping cat.

"How did you meet him?" Virgil asked, eyeing Logan. He was so different form Patton.

Logan stopped grading, thinking to himself for a moment. "Chem 2030" he said with a soft smile. "He needed a lot of help with chemistry, and I needed a study partner." His response was simple and concise. He said it so matter of factly, Virgil was surprised Logan was talking about his boyfriend, and not a rock. 

Perhaps it was brotherly curiosity- the need to test if his brother's partner meet all the requirements. Perhaps it was the night air, the super moon outside affecting Virgil's mood. Perhaps it was the insomnia, mixed with the scent of fresh coffee, making Virgil chattier than usual. 

"Why... him?" Virgil asked, placing emphasis on the last word. Patton was so optimistic, unfocused, and impulsive. Logan appeared to be the exact opposite- calculating, precise, and reserved. There were a hundred ways they could've met, but no reason they would've stayed.

Logan had resumed grading, but stopped again. He met Virgil's eyes, deciphering what he was asked. It was a vague question, but Logan had an answer.

"All my life, I've been smart. I graduated early, and went to college without a second thought. No one ever saw past that. I was a representation of grades- academic achievements incarnate. For a while, that's all I wanted to be. The purest form of logic. When I got to school, I expected it to be the same. I'd study science, choose a career, and discover something. I'd find a way to contribute to my field.

"Patton was different. When we studied together, it was more than just... studying. He brought something new out in me. I wanted to be more than logic, for him. He encouraged me to do impulsive things, things without intellectual merit. He cared about me as a person. And I wanted to be around him, outside of studying. We hung out more and more, until I asked him out. I've been happy ever since."

Virgil thought for a moment. The answer was still methodical, answering his question with informative details, but his tone had changed. It wasn't passionate, per se, but it was involved. He spoke with excitement. Logan was verbose, but the extra information was interesting. He wondered what Logan asking someone out was like.

Virgil's thoughts were interrupted when the apartment door opened. Roman stumbled in, exhaustion weighing down all of his limbs. He headed directly for his bed, but paused.

"Sup, nerd. Bye, Emo Nightmare." 

Logan sighed. "Goodnight, Prince," he remarked, not even looking at the man.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Prince?"

Logan nodded. "It's his last name."

Virgil smiled. He could use this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't ask me why Virgil didn't know Roman's last name when he literally roomed with Remus. I don't know either.


	6. Party for One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A roman centric chapter.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: one (1) swear word, misogynistic language, and graphic depictions of self harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOSH I've wanted to write a roman centric chapter for a while now, but I had to get some things out of the way first.
> 
> I think this is the only chapter that I'm ok with (as in, I don't want to tear myself apart rereading it) and that might be because I wrote it at night? Idk, I do my best writing at night.

Roman’s schedule was a special one. He started work at 7, so he had to be awake by 6, at the very latest. From then, he’d wait tables for a full shift, then have half an hour to get across town to the drug store, where he’d work another four hours. Then he had ten minutes to get to the bar, so he could bartend for another half shift. He was exhausted, but this was the most money he’d earned in his whole life. There weren’t many jobs willing to hire you, when your identical twin was a porn star.

After a restless sleep (when it was only four hours, it was more of a nap), Roman’s alarm beeped until he awoke. It turned out that his roommate was a heavy sleeper, if he slept. Virgil’s insomnia meant that he didn’t get many hours of sleep a week, but when he was asleep he was basically comatose.

Roman slided out of bed, shivering as his feet made contact with the cold, hard floor underneath him. Absentmindedly, he clothed and made his way to the bathroom. There was a small calendar in there (thank you Patton) that everyone marked with a different colored sharpie. Logan’s thesis defense was circled in navy blue. Special fund raisers for the animal shelter were highlighted in Patton’s teal, and Roman’s only day off this week was starred in bright red. 

That day was tomorrow, and the only thing motivating him to get through today. Gargling some mint scented mouth-wash, Roman left for work.

The day wasn’t anything special- rude customers, handsy patrons, and impossible deadlines. He stumbled home, muscles aching. Four hours of sleep were beginning to kill him, very slowly. When he finally entered the apartment (luckily on the ground floor), Virgil was still awake. Thomas was nestled in his lap, purring softly. The scene was strikingly serene, and Roman tried to take it in with his eyes. The windows were closed, but the moonlight pressed through the blinds regardless, flooding the room in a soft, lavender light. Virgil’s laptop glowed, illuminating his gentle features. Had his lips always looked so soft?

“Hey Prince-Charmless,” Virgil , acknowledging Roman’s presence without even looking up. The greeting was witty, if a little painful. His shoulders screamed in resistance, but Roman still managed to lift a hand to his chest, mocking offense. He’d thought of an insult on the way back from the bar, as usual.

“Hello, Panic at the Everywhere.” It was clear that Virgil had some sort of anxiety disorder. Patton had warned Roman and Logan about it, he remembered Remus mentioning something a long time ago. 

Virgil didn’t react, and Roman walked into his room. He collapsed on the bed, slowly getting into pajamas. His left arm stung with a familiar pain. He really didn’t want to be awake right now.  
\--

When Roman awoke, Virgil’s bed was already empty. Grabbing his phone, he read the time. About 2 PM. He’d slept for 12 hours, yet he was still tired. Sighing deeply, Roman got up. His long sleeve shirt was too hot in the spring weather, but necessary. Slowly making his way over to the kitchen, Roman poured himself a bowl of cereal, scrolling through twitter with his left hand (apparently, some “Gibbons” guy was getting canceled).  
It took him some time to muster up the courage. He didn’t want to do this, in fact everything in his brain told him not to, but he had to. Opening the messages app, he texted his terrible twin.

“It’s mom’s birthday. Don’t forget.”

It’s not that the brothers didn’t talk. Remus texted him often, sending him terrifying pictures, suspicious links, and awful ideas. Roman’s responses were scattered, usually depending on his mood. His feelings were complicated about his brother, especially ever since….

Roman’s left arm still stung. 

Roman’s phone pinged with a text. “That bitch? How could I forget?”

Well, Remus was still himself. Repressing any following brother-related thoughts, Roman returned to his room. Might as well put on deodorant, even if he didn’t plan on leaving the house. Logan would return in a matter of hours, and Patton wanted everyone to have dinner together (“pretty please”). For now, it was just Roman, Virgil, and Thomas.

So basically, it was just Roman.

Opening up a laptop, he quickly opened Netflix. There were so many movies to choose from, so many classics that he could sing along to. The cursor hovered over an animated Disney film, Roman knew all the words by heart. He could hit every note (that the guys sang). He loved that movie dearly.

Roman clicked on the movie next to it, desperately trying to ignore the stinging sensation in his left forearm.  
\--

Dinner was fine. Patton asked how everyone’s day went, and Virgil gave nonasnwers, clearly uncomfortable with speaking. Roman had noticed that he was better with one-on-one conversations. Logan answered every question methodically. Sometimes, rOman genuinely wondered if he had a computer instead of a brain. Roman didn’t have many answers for Patton either, having spent his day lounging about watching musicals.

The sun finally set, splashing the world with a full rainbow of colors as it left. The street emptied, and birds stopped singing. Roman watched it all from the bedroom window. It was on Virgil’s side, but the Incredible Sulk was outside working. He wouldn’t know that Roman was leaning on his bed, eager to see the outdoors.

The thought of work the next day weighed heavily on him. He only got one day off a week, but was usually called in to cover other people’s shifts. The only reason he’d had today off was because it was his mother’s birthday, and he maybe told a little lie to make it seem more important than it was. He didn’t feel great about lying to his bosses, but they’d never know.   
His shoulders hunched involuntarily. The stress of his days were killing him faster than he thought. Closing his eyes, Roman listened intently to his surroundings. Virgil typed on his laptop outside, Patton slightly snored, and Logan was completely silent. 

No one would know.

Roman quietly made his way to his bed, underneath which were his favorite possessions. A sword that was too dull to count as a weapon, but could do serious damage in the hands of a professional. It was from his fencing teacher, who’d taken Roman under his wing as an older Drag Queen would mother younger generations. A small pink stone, shaped like a heart and completely smooth. It was his first gift, from his father now long gone. Finally, the thing he was looking for. A green knife, with smooth edges on either side of the blade. The hilt was also stone, deep forest green streaked with black. Remus had given it to him, as a going away present.

Roman rolled up his left sleeve, and gripped hte handle of the dagger firmly in his right hand. The cuts he made yesterday hadn’t healed fully, but they weren’t still bleeding. Scar tissue had begun to form, still tender to the touch and irritated red. Careful not to overlap any fresh wounds, he dragged the blade across pale skin, inhaling sharply as blood started to flow. He’d been doing it for years, but the sensation of cold metal and sharp stinging still drew a reaction. Making a few more incisions, Roman tried to relax. He focused on the physical pain, closing his eyes and squeezing his fist to draw out more blood. He needed to relax, he needed to calm down, he needed to release, he needed to cut, he needed this.

After a few moments, and several shaky breaths, the pain subsided. A long sigh exited his lungs, taking some stress with it. Roman cleaned the knife on a part of the sheets he’d been using for years, wiped the blood of his arm, and made his way to the bathroom. He was ready for the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College brain: you said you wanted to write a slow burn
> 
> Monkey brain: MAKE THEM KISS RIGHT NOW
> 
> College brain: well you passed AP Lit could you at least write like it?
> 
> Monkey brain: COLORS COLORS COLORS COLORS COLORS COLORS COLORS
> 
> seriously though, I warned yall that this slow burn might be fast. like a medium burn. I don't know. Why's Roman so mean to Virgil when they're both clearly suffering? You might ask. Who knows why. All I know is that I grew up in a performance environment, and it makes you way less sympathetic to other people (even when they're clearly suffering) and I guess I'm projecting that onto Roman.


	7. Balancing Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil has been gone for about a month, and Remus is really feeling it. Janus' job finally moves the plot along.
> 
> TW vore mention, alcohol mention, underage drinking mention, assault (like fighting) mentions
> 
> Doesn't contain a fight scene, if you're wondering. I promise I'm getting to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shall now reveal how much I know about the legal system. Sorry if i use legal jargon. Feel free to ask me what some words mean in the comments, I won't judge!
> 
> Do I have to hold myself back from naming every character after a different color? Yes  
> Did I have a moment of weakness writing this chapter? Also yes
> 
> I have reasons behind the names, but they're dumb. I'll explain them later, once the plots start to converge.
> 
> Some vocabulary:
> 
> Vore is a fetish about eating one's sexual partner  
> Alibi is a story that explains where someone is. Usually used in legal disputes.  
> LEGALLY SPEAKING, Assult is the fear of being attacked, and battery is the action of being attacked  
> Subpoena is a thing that requires someone to show up to court  
> Forensics is the science part of cop stories. Forensic scientists use STEM to figure out how a crime was committed, and possibly who committed it.

Remus was between gigs, again. His work, while high in demand, was a mirage of temporary jobs and constant networking. Filming wrapped up several days ago, and Remus had auditions already lined up. He wasn’t in a bad place, but waiting was the worst part of his life.

He was stuck in the apartment, alone. At least a month ago, he could annoy Virgil to satiate the growing boredom that ate at his soul. But Virgil had moved out, with no warning. Remus wanted to hold it against him, to be angry, be furious, but he wasn’t. For the last ten years, Virgil had felt more like a brother than a friend, and a brother moving out wasn’t unordinary. At least, it was ordinary for Remus.

He lazily opened his laptop, and downloaded a movie. He needed something to distract him, to keep his wandering mind in one place. A horror movie would work. Something gory, something he could really sink his teeth into. Something to take his mind of the growing guilt that gnawed- no vored- at his jumpy feelings.

He cranked the volume to its max, hoping that the overstimulation could wake him up. Not that he was asleep, but being alone had a strange effect on him- it shut him down. He could feel the void’s cold embrace, the uncaring chasm calling him back. It was terrifying, but not in the exciting way.

Slowly, he began to sink. Sink into the floor, which he laid on, dully waiting for a jumpscare from his movie. Sink into the ground, which opened like a grave beneath his weight. Sink into the earth, which held him down. Sink beyond that, into empty space. He started to drown, alone in his room, suffocated by the stifling silence. 

“Jesus! Remus, you scared me! Get off the floor, we’re not animals.” Janus’ voice was sharp, cutting through Remus’ haze. He didn’t know how long he’d been on the floor, but his movie was over- even the credits had finished.

Remus bolted upright, covering his stupor with a shit eating grin. Janus regarded him coolly from the door. There were papers in his hands, but Remus didn’t care. He got off the ground quickly, saluting to his friend like a soldier. Janus rolled his eyes. They both despised the military, but pretending that Janus was their- his- commanding officer provided him some schadenfreude.

The apartment was silent for a moment. A moment that should’ve been filled with ambient sounds, should’ve been filled with typing or the creak of an unstable floor board under a shifting wheelchair. It should’ve been filled with Virgil. Janus frowned, clearly thinking the same.

Remus clapped his hands together, breaking both men out of their trance. He grabbed Janus by the arm, leading the lawyer through the apartment to the kitchen. 

“TODAY is a special day,” he started, opening the minifridge. “A few years ago- I forgot how many- you passed the BAR exam. And it is a proud tradition, in this house of justice, to celebrate that accordingly!”

He carefully pulled out a small cake, and plopped it on the table. Janus smiled, genuinely, placing both hands over his heart.

“Oh Remus, you spoil me!” He said, sarcastic voice betraying sincerity. Janus didn’t like to say how he was feeling, but after ten years together, Remus could understand what he meant. It wasn’t about what Jan said, it was about how he said it.

Wielding a large knife in one hand, paper plate in the other, Remus stabbed out a slice of cake for himself, and then one for Janus. Usually, the cake would’ve leaked frosting, being a Remus and Virgil original. This year, Remus had gone to a store to buy it, acutely aware of his loneliness.

Janus ate it slowly, savoring the flavor that had to be sellable. When his roommates prepared food, they rarely cared about edibility. This was the first cake Janus had in years that actually tasted good. He wasn’t going to waste that.  
\--

Janus couldn’t sleep. He’d gotten a solid few hours, but now he was restless. The bed was too hot, too stiff, too low, too cold, too soft, too high. There was no winning. He slid out of bed, and quietly made his way to the table in the kitchen. If he was going to be awake, he might as well get some work done. He opened his email, skipping past the notices from various interns, building management officials, and other unimportant people. His boss had forwarded him several cases to review. At his office, Janus normally would negotiate plea bargains. If his boss had emailed him, that meant the case had a trial date, and required research. The first two cases seemed straight forward. Someone had served alcohol unknowingly to a minor, and the other case was about credit card fraud. Janus yawned. Any criminal law student could argue these.

The third case was intriguing. A man, Herbert Ornassi, had been accused by multiple people of assault and battery, intimidation, and theft. At least two witnesses were willing to testify, under police protection. Others had been called, and Ornassi had been subpoenaed. He maintained innocence, and the state had called on a witness who would testify to the veracity of Ornassi’s alabi. 

Basically, some guy had hit and intimidated people, robbed them, but someone else claimed he was innocent. This case was just the type of interesting Janus needed right now. He checked the time on his laptop. A little past 3 AM. He had enough time to look into the case details and make a few calls before leaving for work.  
\--

Looking over the evidence that had been submitted, Jan understood why the case was so contradictory. Every witness willing underwent a polygraph. While no one lied, their stories were fantastic. According to Witness One (their names were blacked out in all public records, but would be revealed closer to the trial) claimed that Ornassi had inhuman strength. The other man described Ornassi as physically weak, citing what he thought was a back injury. The state witness’ alibi claimed Ornassi was bedridden the whole day. The police reports were equally confusing. Ornassi hadn’t been seen at any crime scene, yet everything stolen was later found on his person. The battery victim was in a mental hospital, and the doctors there wouldn’t allow any visitors. Forensic evidence had yet to come back, for undisclosed reasons. 

That required a call. As a prosecutor, Janus didn’t have a great reputation among the cops, and being open about his sexuality certainly didn’t win him any brownie points. He worked with them often enough to have a few friends. At least he wasn’t a public defender. Janus dialed the number, perfectly aware the sun wasn’t up.

“Dee?” Janus grimaced. He used his second name at work, Dimitri.

“I knew you’d still be awake,” Jan started. Officer Greene liked to pretend she kept a normal schedule, but Jan knew better. Her maternity leave ended last month, but the baby still cried at night. “I need your help with a case.”

“I’m not telling you anything that wasn’t in the police report” she said, voice dripping with suspicion. Jan had extracted details from her before, but “promised” to not do it again.

He laughed. “It’s nothing like that. I have a simple question. Only one,” he cooed. He wasn’t recording the call, but he wanted audio confirmation that she was helping him. Remus had called it “keeping receipts,” but Janus called it blackmail material. Just in case.

“Ask.” Greene demanded, through gritted teeth. Perhaps Janus had let on too much. He would have to make it up to her later. Lunch together? Maybe he’d lock up someone she arrested. Now wasn’t the time to think about it.

“I was reading the police files about several incidents concerning 24th Street.” Both people knew what Janus was getting at, but he told her context anyways. Manipulating people was part of his job, and sometimes that included playing dumb.

“And I saw that the forensic evidence hasn’t been added to the file!” He finished, feigning surprise. Sometimes he couldn’t help but add some flair to his words- he lived with an actor.

“You want to know where the evidence is?” Greene inferred.

“Mhm.”

Janus heard a long suffering sigh from the other end of the phone. Clearly, this case had been a pain for the police, too.

“The forensic team is working diligently-”

“I didn’t ask about work ethic.”

“These things take time-”

“And yet, the rest of the report is spotless.”

“We’re consulting some experts in the field.” She finally gave up. It was early in the morning, and Janus heard her baby softly crying in the background.

“What fields?” Janus asked, pen ready. Whomever the police needed, he could guarantee he knew someone for the job. Providing an expert himself wouldn’t be seen as a conflict of interest, so long as he didn’t interrogate that person himself, and might ingratiate himself to the police more. 

“You said you only had one question,” Greene complained. She was smart, perhaps that’s why Janus got along with her so well. He laughed to himself, and smiled. She was good at this.

“That’s the first question I’ve asked,” he fired back. Technically, he was right. The momentary silence from Greene only confirmed it. 

“Chemistry.” With that final word, the baby’s cries grew in pitch. Greene hung up the phone, but Janus had what he needed. And, he knew exactly the person to call next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's actually Friday now, so I feel better about saying this.
> 
> I don't know when the next chapter will be posted. I like to write at night, but that's only when I'm alone and I don't have as much time as I usually do on weekends. 
> 
> I'm really happy y'all have been liking it so far (so many hits! what the heck!)


	8. Chemistry Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter. Janus calls in some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reread the last chapter, and it sounds like Officer Greene's baby starts wailing at the mere thought of chemistry.
> 
> mood
> 
> this chapter's a lot shorter. I'll probably write longer ones when the week starts again, and I have more alone time.

Monday morning. Logan woke up in bed, alone. The alarm clock on his side blinked the time. 8:30. He had to leave soon. He rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes, and started getting ready. He’d sent out his research findings to a journal a few weeks ago, and the peer results should come back on Friday. He couldn’t worry about that right now. It was nearly finals, and none of his undergrad students were ready.

He taught three different sections of chemistry. First was introductory chemistry, CHEM 2030. The students were mostly humanities majors, trying to meet science requirements to graduate. Logan went easy on them, fully aware that his next sections would be much harder.

Second was biochemistry. The class was only open to students in the school of applied science. Nearly every student had taken chemistry before, but their grades didn’t reflect it. Logan’s class was fabled to be rigorous, but this year it was unforgivable. Very few students had gotten passing grades on their labs, but their test scores were the best in the department.

Last was chemical engineering. This class was only open to seniors, and rather relaxed. Logan waited for all nine students to stumble in. One was still wrapped in a blanket. A few still wore pajamas. Two students had singed eyebrows. Despite their differences, each person was united by the heavy bags under their eyes. Logan smiled to himself. He looked similar while studying for finals.  
\--

The day ended around 3, and Logan hopped on the bus. Public transportation couldn’t take him all the way home, but it was much faster than biking. The apartment was a little out of the way, nestled in the corner of a large apartment block. A gentle breeze blew against Logan’s skin, and the spring air was humid. His phone buzzed. Strange- no one called him.

“This is Logan,” he answered, unsure if it was a prank call. He didn’t recognise the number.

“Logan! It’s been a while,” Janus’ voice cooed from the other side. Logan instinctively held his breath. He’d worked with Janus on a difference case, back when they were both students. He didn’t like Janus himself, but he did admire his work. Janus was an effective lawyer, with a persuasive speaking style and a command over rhetoric that Logan envied.

“What do you want?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Janus wouldn’t have called unless he had no other option. 

“It almost sounds like you don’t want to see me,” Janus feigned offense. He didn’t want to bring Logan into this case, either. “Would you swing by the police station after work? I heard they need a chemist, and that seems your kind of nerd thing.”

“I’m busy, Janus. I can’t just help anyone who needs chemistry help.”

“Too busy? Here I was, thinking that spring was almost over and school would end. What are you going to do over the summer, surely you wouldn’t want experience in your field and some extra cash?” Janus’ voice was sickly sweet. As much as Logan didn’t want to admit it, the lawyer was right. He sighed.

“What time should I be there?”


	9. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil goes to therapy
> 
> non -sequitur- latin for “it does not follow.” (used when someone says something that in no way relates to what was said previously).  
> Slight body horror? Idk grossish imagery  
> One swear word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god I forgot to POST
> 
> Sorry about no chapter yesterday. I said I didn't know if I could post over the weekend, and technically, Sunday counts. Time has no meaning, but gosh darn it SUNDAY COUNTS.
> 
> I might post again tonight. Who knows. I tried planning out each chapter more in depth and naming them all. If I don't add any chapters to the plan, it's currently at 26. This is the most I've ever written for a fan fiction, but I intend to see this to the end.

Spring mornings were humid. Summer was fast approaching, and the sun bleared down on the world, forcefully lighting the streets. Patton was already awake and working. He waited for the bread to rise, alone in the kitchen. The room was stifling hot, but the break room was worse. A cat video played on his phone, to pass the time. The store was open, but no customers had wandered in, yet. The breakfast rush was nonexistent- not even Roman burst in.

Roman slept in late. He didn’t mean to, but his alarm seemed to be quieter than normal. Waking with a start, he leaped out of bed, changed into his uniform, and then left. He was already late, so there wasn’t time to grab a snack. He’d eat something later… probably.

Logan woke at the same time he usually did. This morning was special, however. His students were taking finals today. Technically, he didn’t have to show up to class. He grabbed his bag and left anyways, desperately holding onto the rhythm of his morning schedule. The university wouldn’t be mad at having an extra test proctor, and perhaps his presence would calm the students. 

Virgil woke up last, as usual. He had been awake later than usual, trying to meet a deadline. His insomnia was getting worse. Not one to let something like a lack of basic human function get in the way, he’d taken on a few more projects. A few tech startups in the area offered a reasonable price to anyone who could offer coding help, and Virgil obliged. He felt productive, using the unusual waking hours to his benefit. Thomas wasn’t as pleased, since he preferred to sleep in silence, and Virgil had muttered to himself all night. 

Patton came home first, surprising Virgil. The older brother sleepily made his way across the apartment, and plopped down in a chair. The bags under his eyes were significantly more pronounced.

“Everything alright?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. Thomas lept into Patton’s lap, purring loudly. 

“Me? I’m fine!” Patton claimed, quickly smiling. While his tone was soft, no warmth reached his eyes. The two sat in silence for a moment. Virgil knew what was happening, but didn’t want to say it. He didn’t feel comfortable enough around Patton. Mental health wasn’t a difficult subject, but Virgil didn’t like to challenge his brother. He didn’t want to scare away his only family member.

Luckily, Patton changed the subject. “I heard Logan was doing some extra chemistry work.” The non sequitur hung in the air. Even Thomas’ purring got quieter.

“We have some time to ourselves,” Patton started again, “do you want to try going out? Family bonding?” Patton’s tone was sickly sweet. He was walking on eggshells.

Virgil thought for a moment. He didn’t really want to go outside, but Patton’s eyes were imploring. Patton had really tried to connect with Virgil, and truthfully, Verge did feel bad about it. They hadn’t reconnected like either thought they would, since they never really saw each other during the day. Perhaps this would be good.

“Can Thomas be left alone?” Virgil asked. If he was going to go out, he was going to do it right.

Patton’s eyes lit up. He took Virgil’s question as a sign that he did want to go outside, or at least spend time with Patton alone. “He’s an indoor cat,” Patton said, petting the subject. Thomas’ fur was soft, and a little long. Thin black hairs stuck to Patton’s hand after he stopped.

Virgil wheeled back to his room. He should probably change his sweatshirt, if he was going outside. A simple black jacket would suffice. It had a neat, dark grey, checkered pattern. Patton stood by the door, eager for adventure.  
\--

The town wasn’t a high end place, but it tried to be. Stores had windows full of color, shops advertising their things in all different fonts and lights. In front of each door, the stores had small staircases that went up or down. Virgil understood that it was a way to save space- more stores could fit in a single area if they were stacked, but it was still disappointing. He’d been in a wheelchair all his life, and these types of stores were getting more and more popular. Giving up on going inside, Patton led Virgil to a local dog park. There was a shaded area (courtesy of several old, comforting trees) with a few benches. The brothers stopped there, taking in the fresh air.

Virgil wasn’t a fan of the outdoors, but he knew Patton was. Bees and other small bugs flocked around dandelions, mistaking them for flowers. The grass was long and thick, perfect to poke ankles. A smooth breeze guided clouds through the sky, somewhat tempering the sun’s blazing gaze. A few dogs were enjoying the open space, playing with each other or just sniffing and rolling in the greenery. Patton took it all in with a sigh. He was content to sit.

They sat together for a while. With every passing moment, the silence that had settled over them became more and more unbreakable, the weight of all the previous quiet moments adding up. Virgil couldn’t handle it. The silence scratched at him, raking long scars across his back. His breathing was normal, but his whole body had tensed up. Nothing was going wrong- which is wrong. Things shouldn’t be this perfect, this nice, this peaceful. Last time Virgil and Patton sat together alone, taking in their surroundings, they fought. It ended with Virgil running away. He couldn’t stand the tension- the waiting- for something to go wrong. 

“I’m sorry you and Roman got off to a rocky start,” Patton broke the silence. He wasn’t looking at Virgil, which made it a lot easier. “Are things better?” He asked, voice small. He didn’t want to break the peace that had wrapped itself around the brothers like a warm hug. 

Virgil wouldn’t look at Patton. Making eye contact always made it so much harder to speak. “It’s alright now. I don’t know. We don’t really see each other.” Virgil was second guessing himself. It was a natural habit of his. Janus usually confounded him so much that “I don’t know”s and “I supposes” had weaved their way into his thoughts.

“Because of your insomnia?” Patton probed. He didn’t want to press his brother. The ghost of their last argument sat between them, a haunting reminder of both brothers’ failures. Virgil felt Patton’s gaze on him, but still didn’t look up. Instead, he nodded, not wanting to provoke any argument by speaking. 

“I think there are pills for that sort of thing,” Patton started, the gentle smile on his voice adding a tender cadence to his words. “Another shift opened at the bakery, if you need the money for medication I could-”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “No!” he interrupted, not realizing how loud it would come out. He looked at his shoes. While no other people in the park looked up, a few dogs did. “I, I mean.... You don’t have to work more. I have the money,” Virgil added quickly, in a hushed whisper that overcompensated for the abrupt shout.

Uncomfortable silence fell over the brothers. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, in self loathing. He’d done it again. He’d fucked up. By shouting at his brother, he’d fallen into their last pattern. Why couldn’t they have a normal conversation alone, why’d he always have to shout? Why couldn’t he be a better brother, why couldn’t he sleep at night and not worry Patton at all, why couldn’t he just be normal, why couldn’t-

Patton slowly placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, unsure if it was too much contact. He didn’t want to intrude over Virge’s boundaries, but he also wanted to extend an olive branch. Virgil looked at his brother, startled by the touch. He didn’t look mad.

“Want to head home?” Patton asked. Virgil nodded, and the two left the park. A few dogs sniffed them as they passed, and the sun still shone in the sky. The humidity swirled around and surrounded the two, but it wasn’t suffocating. The sun still shone in the sky, smiling down on the Earth.  
\--

It turned out that you needed a doctor’s note to get insomnia medication, legally. Having done his fill of illegal things, Virgil decided to make an appointment. Dr. Wyne suggested that Virgil talk to a psychiatrist, who could provide more services than just writing prescriptions. Virgil didn’t want to (paying someone to hear his problems didn’t sound very helpful) but Logan and Patton both endorsed the idea enthusiastically. 

That’s how Virgil found himself outside of a beige office block, checking the number on the wall against the number on google maps. It was a perfect match- Dr. Shell’s Office (they/them). He was nervous, as usual. Meeting new people was rare for him, and he didn’t know anyone who knew this person. They’d ask personal questions, and want personal answers. He wasn’t ready to give those up, would they be mad? Disappointed? How much soul searching could they get done in less than an hour’s time? They probably see patients with much worse problems- Virgil was only taking their time away from the people who needed it.

He started to wheel away when the door opened. 

“You’re Virgil? Hi, I’m doctor Ruby Shell.” Dr. Shell smiled warmly. They led Virgil into the room, grabbed a notepad and sat down on a chair. Light blue walls enclosed the space. The room had two pale yellow chairs. They looked comfy, mostly pillows. A long couch lay adjacent to the chairs, clearly meant for patients to relax on. Virgil wheeled up to it, remaining in his wheelchair but placing himself in a patient’s position. In a corner, a small desk was hiding behind towers of filing cabinets. A rolly chair was pushed into the desk as far as it would go. The desk itself had a large stack of magazines and journals on one end, and a computer balanced them out on the other.

“So, just before we start, I’d like to establish some rules. You don’t have to answer any question that you don’t want to. If you see me writing, it’s nothing mean. I’ll merely be writing some notes for myself, for other sessions.” Their voice was calm.

“Let’s start with what you told me over email. You want a prescription for insomnia medication.” They wrote something on the notepad with an indigo pen. Silence fell over the room. Virgil didn’t know if he should talk, or if Dr. Shell would continue going over what he wrote in the email.

“Tell me about your insomnia,” they prompted. It wasn’t a command, more like a suggestion, but with an encouraging tone.

“Uh,” Virgil started. He really hated talking about himself. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping, I guess…” He waited for Dr. Shell to finish writing something. They looked up, eyes motioning Virgil to continue.

“Lately, it’s gotten pretty bad. Uh, like a month and a half ago I moved in with my brother, and his roommates… that’s when it started getting worse.” Dr. Shell nodded, thinking to themselves.

“What are your roommates like? You mentioned your brother a few times in your email, but you didn’t mention other roommates.”

Virgil thought to himself for a moment. Where to start?

“Patton’s my brother. We uh, we didn’t really talk a lot in the past, but we’re doing… that… now. We also live with his boyfriend. He’s a nice guy. A little stuck up, but nice. And then there’s Roman.”

Dr. Shell’s eyebrow raised. Virgil might have put too much emphasis on the name. Silence filled the room again, until he continued.

“Roman is… well we share a room. We got off to a bad start… I kinda threw some things at him. But now we’re pretty good. I mean, we’re not good, but it’s ok because we don’t talk to each other. Except when we insult each other. But it’s not a bad thing! I mean, we insult each other, but it’s not… hurtful.” Virgil shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know how to describe whatever he was with Roman. They certainly weren’t friends. The rhythm they’d established (Roman comes home with an insult, Virgil fires back, they work/sleep, and repeat) was fun. Sometimes, Virgil would take a break from coding by thinking of an insult to fire back. He didn’t want to be too mean, but he refused to be upstaged by Remus’ brother.

Dr. Shell wrote something down, pen squeaking. “So, this Roman… what’d you throw at him?”

That was not the question Virgil expected. Maybe Logan and Pattonw were right. Seeing a psychiatrist was a wonderful idea.  
\--

It’d been a few weeks now. Virgil had appointments every two weeks with Dr. Shell, and was working on a few different problems. He had a script for insomnia medication, as well as a meager dose of anxiety meds. The dose would be upped, after Virgil’s body took some time to get used to it. Medication was a tricky thing. Dr. Shell explained that Virgil also showed signs of mild depression, but the anxiety medication would work towards that, too. They explained that mental health was intricate, and all of his problems fed into each other. His insomnia was as much a part of his anxiety and depression as his anxiety and depression were a part of his insomnia. The medication would help, but the bulk of the work would fall to Virgil. 

He and Dr. Shell went over a few techniques to stop his anxiety from acting up. If he felt a panic attack coming on, finding a distraction was key. Some people used service animals (apparently Thomas wouldn’t work in this instance), but there are other options. Doing something unusual, like eating an ice cube would shock his system. Take him out of the fight or flight response. 

More than that, Virgil had some tasks to do. He should go outside every day (or at least try to), since sunlight was good for the skin and apparently lowered depression. Also, Virgil had to spend time to find out what he liked to do. Coding for work was a great job, but didn’t count as personal time. In his downtime, Virgil started watching movies. He used to do this with Janus and Remus. 

Dr. Shell didn’t know much about his former roommates, but they knew Virgil didn’t like to talk about them. Shell suggested Virigl try a completely different genre of movie. Janus liked spy movies, and Remus liked horror. They usually settled for thriller movies.

Virgil moved in a drastically different direction. Apparently Logan had a Netflix subscription through the University, so every roommate had an account. In his down time, Virgil started the entire Disney/Pixar catalogue. Animated children’s musicals were as different from thriller movies as it got.

This tactic was working well. Virgil had a cynical outlook (Shell attributed it to his upbringing) and watching these movies offered a fun game- find a dark theme in each movie. He usually put on the movies at night, since Patton loved to sing along and sometimes roped Logan into dancing with him. It worked well, until Roman came home early. Virgil had forgotten that Roman the bar closed early on Thursdays (men’s night was not a success in a straight bar). Roman came home, insult prepared. However, he instantly forgot it when Alladin’s “Whole New World” filled the apartment. He nearly kicked down the door, belting out the lyrics in perfect time. Virgil hated to admit that he was hitting all the notes, too. Since Patton was already spinning Logan around (the poor nerd nearly fell over, if his boyfriend hadn’t caught him), Roman settled for the next best option. He lifted Thomas, placing the cat in Princess Jasmine’s spot. The two twirled and danced to the whole song, deftly navigating around Virgil’s spot at the table and the cramped kitchen.

Patton and Logan eventually went to bed, but Roman stayed up to finish the movie. Virgil didn’t mind, since the apparently amazing singer was mostly keeping to himself. When the movie finished, Virgil waited for Roman’s insult. It never came, and the credits music awkwardly filled the space between them. The bags under Roman’s eyes were darker, and his frame was a little thinner than Virigl remembered. Small brown bangs swooped over his chocolate colored eyes, like a spider’s intricate web floating in a light breeze. He looked heavenly.

Roman caught Virgil staring. That was enough to start a conversion (well, argument). They were exchanging insults, when Virgil accidentally brought Tangled into the mix. Roman defended Virgil’s insult as a compliment, and then the real argument started. The Disney Debate.

Virgil recounted the night’s story to Dr. Shell (conveniently skipping the part about Roman’s face). They were silent for a moment, and then looked over a few notes from pervious sessions.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about Roman.”


	10. Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus' work gets complicated, and Remus is struck with inspiration.
> 
> Trigger warnings: light body horror, alcohol mentions, vomit mentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say this about last chapter. I based Virgil's experience in therapy off of mine. I'm not/haven't experienced a lot of what Virgil (in this story) is going through, but I don't have any other experience to base this off of. Therapy is pretty good, if you can find the right person to help.
> 
> Also, a lot of the advice in that chapter is real! Breaking yourself out of a fight or flight response helps with panic attacks, so try doing something unordinary if you feel one begin (of course, if you're too involved in it already, I hope someone helps you through it)
> 
> Also, I know the whole world is on lock down during Corona, but try to get some sunshine. It actually helps fight depression (I don't know how, I just know that it does. There is statistical evidence of it).

Janus walked to work every morning. He enjoyed the morning mist, which clung to his legs like a scared child. The fog was an added benefit- he loved the mysterious atmosphere it provided. His street was normally so boring. It was a cold morning, which meant he needed the cane. An old leg injury that healed improperly meant he leaned on a cane if the weather was too cold. His muscles ached, but he forced them to move. If his body had made it through the grueling years of law school, it could make it through a chilly morning.

At work, Janus leaned his cane against his desk, took off his hat, and placed his cape around his chair. The cubicle was small, but he didn’t plan to be in it for long. Across the hall, an office would open up. Pushing aside thoughts of his future plans and other ambitions, Janus started working. He could sit at his desk all day, if he wanted. He liked to get to work early, as soon as the building opened. Getting a head start on projects made him appear like a better employee than he was. And, if he got enough work done, he could excuse himself to sit by the water cooler and listen in on workplace gossip. Workplace gossip was a special indulgence, a highschool tradition that bled into adult spaces. In highschool, Janus hadn’t cared to know what was going on around him. However, Dimitri couldn’t get enough of it. This fascination must’ve developed some time in college, while he sat behind tomes of legal precentends “studying.”

Janus worked on a few cases. They were mostly plea bargains- it wasn’t his fault the justice system was so bloated. Coworkers spilled into the office, assuming their places inside different cubicles. The clock counted the minutes in agonizing detail, with a thin yellow hand measuring each second. The timepiece was broken, eternally 10 minutes too early. Rumor had it that the bosses broke it intentionally, so that it would motivate employees. Nothing like a time crunch to help decipher complicated laws. Janus loved that defunct clock.

The day passed slowly. Occasionally, people would start talking. It was Monday, so most coworkers were swamped with work. Interns ran around the office, organizing files in cramped closets, sorting through incomprehensibly muddled data, and delivering coffees to the higher ups. Sometimes Janus watched them scurry, remembering when he was in such a position. It felt good to be above that.

The news came around lunch. One of the heads of the company itself came to Janus’ cubicle. Apparently he didn’t want to use an email, despite sending them nearly every three hours. Janus recognised the guy. He had been against hiring Janus, but was all for promoting him from intern to full time employee. Whatever he had to say, Janus prepared himself for the worst.

“Dimitri! I got bad news about the Oranssi case.” Well, at least he was straightforward. “It’s been placed on hold.”

Of all the things Janus expected to hear, a case being suspended was not it. He raised a single eyebrow, indicating that he wanted more information. He wouldn’t dare ask a superior for more knowledge- he’d seen others get fired for less. However, he had been assigned to this case, and he deserved to know what was happening. The guy downed coffee with the same casualty a habitual smoker would take a drag.

“The guy escaped police custody,” He leaned in, lowering his voice so that no peeping Toms could hear. “At least, that’s what one officer told me.”  
\--

The day ended, finally, and Janus left with the usual rush. He tried to be inconspicuous today. It was the cane. Whenever he needed to use it, he tried to leave in a crowd. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but he was reticent to show others that he was injured, or worse- have a conversation about himself.

The apartment was unnervingly silent. Janus was getting used to Virgil’s absence (still pissed about it, but getting used to only having one roommate), but this was too quiet. Usually Remus made some noise, any sign of chaotic life. Janus tried announcing himself. He’d stopped doing it after his jumpy friend abandoned him, but the silence was creepy. Even when Remus was having an episode, he made noise. Janus checked Remus’ usual haunts- his toxically green room, Janus’ mustard colored room, the cramped kitchen space. Remus was nowhere to be found. 

Janus sighed and closed his eyes. This left one room. He knocked on the door, perfectly aware that Remus could be in the middle of an episode. The knocking should’ve broken him from it. Janus slowly opened the door, fully expecting to see his roommate scratching at the walls until his nails were bloody, or black out drunk in a puddle of his own vomit. Janus had caught Remus in both positions more often than he’d like to remember, but they hadn’t had an incident since last year. He didn’t say it enough, but Janus was genuinely proud of Remus. He was getting better.

Remus was in the room alright. He was sprawled out on the floor, with crude drawings scattered all over. A few papers clung to the walls. Remus apparently hadn’t heard Janus announce himself, or knock on the door. He was too busy, hurriedly scratching at a paper with a pen like his very life depended on it. His thin frame was in one of Jan’s shirts (at least he was wearing clothes) and slightly shaking. Remus didn’t seem to care. He was in the zone, muttering to himself as he wrote with an intensity that frightened Janus.

Janus slowly closed the door. He didn’t want to interrupt a friend while he was doing… something that was important. He was sure Remus would fill him in later, in graphic detail. Janus preferred to wait. He had to sort the drifting thoughts in his mind.

The Oranssi case had been suspended. Not closed, not given to a different firm, not changed… just delayed. The police reports made it sound like Oranssi had been under careful watch. Officer Greene seemed to confirm it, but looking back she hadn’t actually detailed who was keeping an eye on the suspect or how. Forensic evidence had been returned to the police, now that a chemistry expert provided valuable help. Could Oranssi have known that his case was being solved? Did he have a contact on the force? Is that how he had escaped?

Janus sighed, disappointed. A few months ago, he would’ve been able to find out. With Virgil’s hacking help, he could’ve discovered how Oranssi escaped, and perhaps even who he was working with. Janus was perfectly aware it was vigilante justice, and the local news had celebrated when their illicit activity seemed to stop, but…

But it felt good. Too good. Janus yearned for the ability to finally make the decisions himself, instead of playing to a jury’s favor. He missed the power, the ability to enact justice despite the systems around him.

Remus emerged later that night, panting. Janus had already eaten, but Remus hadn’t. Body still slightly shaking, he pulled a concoction from the minifridge and began to shovel it into his mouth. His eyes were clouded, clearly still enraptured in thought. Janus watched him eat, amazed how Remus could shove such an unappealing thing into his mouth.

When remus finally noticed that he wasn’t alone, his smile was enormous. Excitedly, he started to tell Janus about his day. Inspiration struck him during work. He was reading scripts at home, when a truly awful idea wormed its way into his dirty brain. He started to write, but found that words weren’t enough. So, he scurried into his “office” (is that what you call the room with your blood on its walls and your vomit stains on the floor) and started to draw it out. Apparently, the concept for a terrifying horror novel was in the works, and Remus was completely consumed by it. He neglected to eat all day, too busy creating a masterpiece. Janus promised to look it over tomorrow, after he got some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you wondering what the heck Remus' "episodes" are about? well, an explanation scheduled for chapter 18. Sorry.
> 
> The next chapters are ones I'm really excited to write, so I think I'll save them for when it's not midnight. Super sorry about posting today- I know! I know I forgot to post in the morning and it's killing me. I hope this second chapter makes up for it. Usually I only post two chapters a day if the mood grips me, but today is different.


	11. Ayudame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman starts to hallucinate from lack of sleep. He also gets in an argument with Logan.
> 
> Holy shit trigger warnings: Self harm. so much self harm. blood, burns, drug mention, swear words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's more Roman angst, because apparently I refuse to write him happy. Don't worry, it's coming. He'll be getting better soon, but not yet. Sorry if you ship Logince (I do too)

There was only one day Roman could look forward to. Thursdays. On Thursdays, he came home early, and could sleep, maybe even eat. His schedule had been relentless this month, and he was barely sleeping. Four hours every night, except for Thursdays. He boarded the bus to his first job, and swayed more than usual. The road curved the same as it always did, but this time Roman nearly fell over. His balance was off. He hoped that wouldn’t affect his ability to work.

Hunger racked his body all morning. He skipped breakfast, again. Every time he slept in late, he had to skip food. Sacrifices had to be made. His mother’s words rang in his head, scaring some weak, emotional part of him. No time to think about it now- table six was still waiting for today’s special. Or had it been table nine?

Half an hour to get across town. Roman’s legs shook with effort. He wasn’t especially tall, but he’d been on his feet all morning. He nearly collapsed into a bus seat, setting a timer on his phone. He could take a 15 minute nap on the way.

A cut reopened. Roman felt the thin skin on his leg give up, and the warm blood begin to trickle. He’d clean that later- he had to start working again. It was Wednesday, meaning that the Summer Sale started. He would have some time to himself as a cashier. Luckily, today he was wearing jeans. The denim would hide the blood for some time. He could clean it in the sink later, when everyone was asleep.

Except Virgil. Roman wasn’t sure when that guy slept. He would keep to himself, though, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Edgar Allen Pout- he’d thought of that one a few days ago- was pretty quiet.

The day passed slowly, and Roman’s hunger only worsened. On his break, he bought a snack. It was small and tasteless, but his mouth watered nonetheless. Roman would eat better when he got home- if he had time. Sometimes he forgot to eat when he got home. It wasn’t an eating disorder, he was just too tired.

Last job of the day. Bartending. He’d started with all the flair he could muster, shaking and mixing drinks with a pizazz no coworker could come close to matching. Recently, he could barely lift the mix above the bar’s waist high bench. Company policy demanded that the customer saw their drink made (to prevent drugging) and Roman could muster just enough strength. His arms shook, but the long sleeve shirt served its job. Nobody knew.

He watched the clock with labored eyes. The bags under them had gotten deeper and darker. For one terrifying moment, when he looked in a mirror last night, Remus had stared back. Roman watched the clock with eyes that weren’t his. When it started to melt, he finally looked away. It wasn’t that hot in here, was it? Surely someone would’ve said something. Doing a double take, he realized the clock was fine. He was seeing things.

Roman disassociated on the way home. It was hard to focus, but he had to stay awake. Hunger and exhaustion dueled in his head, as he, zombie-like, lumbered across the apartment. Virgil was still awake, as usual. Roman had thought of an insult, as he usually did on the way home, but his moody compatriot spoke first.

“Woah, you alright?” Virgil asked, side-eyeing his roommate. Roman didn’t stop moving, determined to eat something real today. 

“What’s it to you, Charlie Frown?”

“You look… worse” Virgil responded, completely ignoring Roman’s insult. This was serious. Roman pushed a fake smile onto his face. It was the same smile he used with Trouble Customers. He wouldn’t let Virgil know just how right he was.

“Yeah, I almost look like you.” The remark was more cunning than he meant it to be. He knew Virgil was trying to be better, going outside at the advice of a therapist. He didn’t want to hurt Virgil. He didn’t mean it.

Virgil turned around sharply, returning to his work. Even Thomas shot Roman a nasty look. Roman knew he should apologize, but he couldn’t. The words were stuck in his throat, and he didn’t have the strength to press past them. He didn’t have the strength to eat tonight, either.

He did have the strength for something else. He wandered into his room, and took out Remus’ dagger. It was still sharp, but some dried blood remained on the blade. Had he cleaned it last night? Didn’t matter. He used a different side to make neat incisions. The knife shook in his hand, but the pain was normal. Roman closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation in his shins. The bitter cuts were stabilizing. They hurt, but it was a nice kind of pain. The type that Roman had control over. The type that didn’t hurt others. The type that was familiar.  
\--

Thursday night. Roman came home, running on fumes. His eyelids refused to remain open, but he needed to see. He jammed the key into the lock several times, fumbling with the door. When it finally opened, Virgil wasn’t in the room. Instead, Logan sat at the table, expectantly. His arms were crossed, brow furrowed behind those angular, nerd glasses.

“Where’re the others?” Roman slurred. He wasn’t drunk, but he was tired. Exhaustion told him he didn’t have the time to deal with Logan, but his hyper attention said that he needed to know what was wrong.

“Out. Patton called it ‘brotherly bonding.’” Logan’s words were measured. He was angry. Roman remembered Patton mentioning something about that to him, saying that he’d be gone one day. Was that today? He nodded to himself.   
Roman had nearly walked into his room, fully prepared to collapse on the bed and enjoy an extra two hours of sleep, when Logan spoke again.

“We need to talk.” Fuck. Roman didn’t have the patience, but Logan stood up. He wouldn’t be ignored. Roman just needed this to end.

“Last night, you ate all the jam in the house.” Oh. Was this what Logan was mad about? Was jam really what was keeping Roman from his beautiful bed?

“Really?” Roman started. Now he was angry. A final burst of energy came back to his body. “You’re mad about jam?”

Logan was still standing, arms folded. “I’m mad at YOU, Roman. You do this all the time. You act like you’re the only person here.” Roman didn’t see how that related to jam, but he didn’t care. He was angry now.

“Oh, I act like I’m the only person in this house? You’re the one who leaves papers everywhere, like the embodiment of a carbon footprint!” Apparently his rage came with another burst of creativity.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I have asked you kindly several times. I warned you that this wouldn’t stand, but you continue to override any request that any one of us makes. You act like a child!” 

Roman tried to talk over him, too tired to be polite. “You asked me kindly? That’s news to me. If that’s what you call kind, I’d love to see what you call a bitch because apparently I wouldn’t know human decency if it smacked me in the face-”

They were in each other’s faces now, eye to eye, shouting. That’s when it happened.

Logan slapped Roman, across the face. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, what vengeance had momentarily possessed him. The argument was cut short there, as both were suddenly quiet. Logan looked at his hand, awed that he’d physically escalate a fight. Roman stumbled back, luckily into a wall. He’d been close to one when they started shouting, and it’s support against his back was cold.

“I- I’m so sorry,” Logan stuttered, reeling. His voice was small, making his apology that much weaker.

“You fucking book germ!” Roman disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t care if Logan was listening to him across the door. He didn’t care who saw him now. His face stung. Logan’s fingers would leave red streaks. 

Roman stifled back a sob. He wouldn’t- couldn’t cry. Not now. He was on the floor, scrambling for it. A green snake rested under his bed. Roman didn’t care. He pushed past the serpent, grabbed the knife, and rolled up his pants. The cuts from yesterday hadn’t healed at all. He didn’t care. He started cutting, reveling in the pain. He could control this. 

The knife slid past a few of the cuts from yesterday. Roman was usually careful, but not tonight. His leg was completely red, covered in blood and irritated skin. It wasn’t enough. 

He rolled up his sleeve, gripping the knife between his teeth. His wrists were white with scar tissue, and warped from a few burns. Holding the knife with white knuckles, Roman took the dagger in his right hand and went to work on his left arm.  
\--

The next morning, his alarm wasn’t as loud as it was usually. The knife was on his nightstand, freshly cleaned but on display. Weird, usually he kicked it under the bed. He dully remembered a snake down there, but upon further inspection, it was gone. Had it been there at all? Roman’s arm was numb. He unrolled his sleeve and checked. He didn’t remember last night after the fight (honestly, he didn’t remember the fight that much). The cuts were still dark red, and bleeding slightly. He must’ve cut deeper than usual.


	12. School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus backstory. It's really dramatic and the list of trigger warnings is a long one.
> 
> Trigger warnings: child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, swear words, remus eats a thing he’s not supposed to, suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, arson mention, actual arson, homophobic language/slurs, ableist language/slur, gross imagery, misogynistic language/slurs, shitty father alert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the longest chapter yet! 
> 
> Holy shit. Writing this was hard. My need to give every character an edgy, anime, tragic backstory fought my inner love for the characters (believe it or not I don't like writing when characters are suffering externally. I prefer writing internal pain, like angst). 
> 
> Some of my anger at the American Public School System bleeds into this chapter. I'm not sorry about that. If you got school horror stories, share them in the comments!
> 
> I'm weak for imagery, y'all. I can't help myself.

The school was rotting, from the inside out. It went beyond the infrastructure- although that was undeniably breaking down. Cracks in the walls that paint couldn’t cover up, bends in the ceiling that threatened to collapse entirely whenever it rained, bugs infesting any corner they could claim, if the mold didn’t get there first. No, the school was falling apart, but that wasn’t the rot.

The rot came from the people. Teachers tried their best, but decades of disenfranchisement and unlivable pay eroded them. A few security guards occasionally patrolled the school, smoking in the parking lot when they thought no students were looking. The school supposedly had a counselor, but they never showed. The students themselves, middle schoolers, were no better. They self organized into friend groups- a murder of crows made up the honors students, a nightmare of crabs composed the burnouts, a cackle of hyenas the popular kids, and so on. That’s where Janus Dimitri Pyton found his best friends- his own nest of snakes.

Seventh grade. He stood alone, having slithered out of math class. Grey clouds covered the sky, threatening to rain at any moment. He clutched a jacket to his body, preparing for the future. If it would rain on him, he’d soak through to the bone. Maybe it’d finally be enough to kill him. He started wandering, away from the school, away from home, away from society, away from his own feelings. His yellow shoes tapped against the pavement, collecting condensed droplets of water from the cold, humid ground. A small worm inched its way across the same concrete. Janus watched it move, slowly beginning to dissociate. It was headed towards the street, where cars zoomed by at lethal speeds. The poor creature had no idea of the doom it was facing, but Janus did. Idly, he envied the worm. He wanted to jump in front of it. Not as some grand act of protection, but so that the car would hit him instead. He wasn’t great at physics, but he was pretty confident that a car moving at 60 miles an hour would kill him. The road seemed to call, in that strange siren-like way that only Janus could hear.

“Is that a worm?!” The voice behind him startled Janus out of his sickly serene moment. He turned to look at who just spoke. 

A small kid. He must’ve been a sixth grader. A rat’s nest of brown hair rested on his head, some of it falling into his eyes like the haunting tendrils of an octopus, before it grabs its prey and kills it. He wore a grey shirt, clearly too big. It was an adult’s size, despite the kid’s frame being clearly small. Malnourished small. He wore dark green shorts, the color of leaves in a haunted forest. Two thin, knobbly sticks of legs jutted out from them, shaking slightly in the cold. He had black rain boots on, but the rubber was falling apart, and a single toe stuck out a hole. Despite his ragged and dismal appearance, the kid’s eyes were bright with excitement. They were an electric grey, the color of a cloud illuminated by deadly lightning.

Before Janus could answer the kid’s question, the boy had already ran up to the worm, dropping to the ground to inspect it better. It slowly crawled onto his hand, and the boy grinned deviously. He shuttered as the small bug tickled his palm, wiggling in delight. He plucked the worm with two thin fingers in his left hand and held it close to his face. 

And then he ate it whole.

The kid’s eyes slowly made their way to Janus. His smile relaxed. He strode towards the seventh grader, hand out to shake. 

“Hi! I’m Remus,” he started, apparently undisturbed by his actions literally five seconds earlier. Janus was not the same.

“I- Dimitri-” Janus sputtered, still in shock. He shook the kid’s hand, not sure if he was awake. The kid’s smile was wide and juvenile. He looked up at Janus, searching for something in his eyes.

“You ate a worm.” It was all Janus could think about. His eyes were wide, but not with shock anymore.

Remus chuckled. “I thought it would taste better,” he shrugged. “Let’s go.” He was still holding Janus’ hand. Before letting go, Remus ran off, dragging his new friend with him. Janus followed, unsure of where he was going. He didn’t try to wrestle his hand free. The kid clearly had a plan, as his footing was even. He ran in large leaps, boots stomping on the ground with every heavy foot fall. Janus had to run to keep up. Remus led him through a grassy field, back towards the school. However, when they got within sight distance of the decrepit building, Remus stopped short. Both boys panted, and Janus finally got his hand back. 

Remus’ eyes were clouded over in thought. He shook some bangs from his eyes, and then turned to Janus.

“I hate this place, Dee.” He said, jaw tight in conviction. His honesty stunned Janus. They hadn’t shared more than ten words with each other, and already Remus was truthful around him. Remus turned to look into Janus’ eyes again. He wasn’t searching for something anymore. He’d found it, and his eyes bored into Janus’ soul. 

“I’m going to burn it to the ground.” Remus vowed. He grabbed Janus’ hand again, holding it in place with both hands. His fingers were freezing- cold to the bone. Janus looked into the sixth grader’s eyes. The kid wasn’t being hyperbolic- this was a threat. 

A small smile slithered onto Janus’ face. He liked this kid.  
\--

It had been a week since their first meeting. Janus still ditched his math class, but he did stay for lunch. The kid he’d thought was a sixth grader- Remus- was apparently a seventh grader, too. They hadn’t spent time doing anything chaotic together- yet. Usually, Remus would just hang around his taller friend, making grandiose plans. Occasionally, Janus would chirp in, to tweak a thought or shoot down a stupid idea. Remus was full of those. However, whenever Janus shut him down, Remus wasn’t mad. He merely made a different plan, as if it hadn’t even happened. It was refreshing, delightful even. He liked being right, being in charge. He was the smartest person in the group. 

Remus was detailing another such plan, this time to kill the principal with an electric throne (he was insistent that it be a throne) when a nagging thought finally snaked its way out of Janus.

“Remus?” He asked, breaking the smaller boy from his maniacal scheming. Remus looked up when he heard his name, eyes wide. He was paying attention. “Why were you outside, last week?”

“The same reason you were,” he responded. “I wanted to jump in front of a car.”

The answer scared Janus. Not because his friend had wanted to die. Remus probably hadn’t even wanted it to do it in a suicidal fashion. The answer terrified Janus for a different reason- it was vulnerable. He remembered Remus looking deep into his eyes, searching for something. Whatever he’d been looking for, he’d found without even asking. Janus’ face had revealed what he wanted to do, and only Janus didn’t know. The world could see his thoughts, his wants.

And if the world could see it, then he was as good as dead.  
\--

Janus opened the door to a large house. He had the key in hand, but hesitated nonetheless. No cars in the driveway. He let out a breath silently. He’d held it since the bell rang, since he got the test back.

Another B+. Another failure. Janus ripped up the paper, content to hide the evidence of his shortcomings from the rest of the world. He climbed a long, gaudy staircase. The gold finish reflected into his eyes, blinding him with its opulence. He weaved his way across long hallways, avoiding his reflection in a mirror. At the end of the corridor was his room. He opened the door and tried to lock it behind him. It was a small comfort, since his dad had the key to every room. 

Janus hadn’t noticed he’d fallen asleep until the house shook undeath him. He lifted his head off the ground, realizing what happened. He’d spend so much time studying for midterms, he must’ve passed out when he came home. It didn’t matter, he was a light sleeper. The ground vibrated as the garage door opened. He was home.

Fuck.

Janus tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. If his father asked, he had been basking in the sunlight from his room. It was a weak excuse, but he doubted that it was disappointing.

His father moved through the house quietly, but Janus could hear him. His gait boomed in the way that a silent movie villain bellowed. The door jiggled slightly, before clicking open. Cornelius stood in the doorway, key in hand. The two regarded each other. Janus’ kept his face blank, but hungrily poured over his father’s face for any emotional indication. A horrible feeling crept down Janus’ back. His father was mad.

“The school called.” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He was dead. “Two Bs,” he started, entering the room. Janus didn’t flinch, but his brain begged him to move. Evade. Escape. Somehow leave.

Cornelius continued to advance, his commanding. “I thought we talked about this.” He was silent for a moment.

“WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!” he repeated. Janus nodded, refusing to look at his father’s eyes. He wouldn’t challenge him. “What did we talk about?” He asked, voice still booming. Shame clamped an iron hand over Janus’ mouth, and he found the words clogged in his throat.

“I asked you a question.” Cornelius prompted, anger rising in his voice. 

“My grades,” Janus croaked. He bit back tears, repressing the familiar sting at the back of his eyes.

“Come here,” Cornelius said, grabbing Janus by the wrist. He marched the boy to the hallway, right in front of the mirror. Two strong hands trapped Janus in place, holding his shoulders down. Janus looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was disgustingly clean, unnaturally spotless. The reflection was merciless.

“You’re worthless,” Cornelius’ voice rang in Janus’ ears. His shoulders ached under his father’s hands. Janus nodded, looking away while he tried to blink back tears. The pressure on his arms increased.

“Look at yourself!” Cornelius commanded, shaking his son slightly. “You’re pathetic. Stupid.” Janus looked at himself in the mirror, focusing on anything but his eyes- small acne scars around his lips, the way his hair peaked out behind his ears, his crooked nose. The image blurred slightly, as tears began to well. Dread filled Janus’ stomach like a black hole.

“Are you crying?” Cornelius demanded, shaking his son again. “Are you crying, faggot?” Janus shook his head, trying to breathe. His throat was closing up, swelled with fear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was more to himself, than his father. He was suddenly whirled around, back against the wall. His father’s hands were on either side of his arms, but no longer holding him down. No, instead he was pinned to the wall. His body went rigid as his father screamed in his face, calling him a pathetic fairy. He was a disappointment, a stain on the family legacy. Janus remained as still as he could, breathing lightly. 

Finally, Cornelius backed off, moving his hands. Janus tried to sneak away, go back to his room, when it happened. He’d moved to quickly, set off a primal response in his father’s body. He fell to the ground hard, his whole body collapsing onto the floor. His father had hit him in the hip. A single blissful moment passed, as the pain sensors in Janus’s lower back recalibrated. They started to ache, quickly spiraling into a white heat that blinded him. The moment ended, and searing, stinging, burning shot down this thigh. He turned his head, trying to get his bearings, when he saw what hit him. A bronze candle holder, probably from the table in front of the mirror, was in his father’s hand. His knuckles were white, gripping it with an intensity that Janus feared.

As soon as it happened, it was over. Cornelius was on his knees, muttering Janus’ name helplessly. He’d gone too far, and the regret finally kicked in. Janus felt himself roll over, getting picked up. He was in his father’s arms, they were going down the stairs. He felt sleep tug at his eyes.  
\--

The hospital wasn’t too far away. A doctor had checked him out, and hooked him up to an IV. Pain medication dripped into his arm slowly, and Janus felt his eyes dry. He had lots of alone time, since his father was outside talking to a nurse. Occasionally, someone would check on him, ask his pain level on a scale from 1 to 10, write something down, and leave. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Cornelius joined them again. A doctor followed close behind, and sat down. He invited his father to sit too, but Cornelius stood. His body was tense.

“I won’t lie to you. It’s not good,” The doctor said, checking over a clipboard. He flipped through a few pages, and then continued. “There shouldn’t be an external scarring, but he really did a number on himself.” Janus suppressed a laugh. He didn’t know what lie Cornelius had told the doctor, but clearly it placed all the blame on the victim. 

“How bad is it?” Cornelius asked, crossing his arms.

“Well, we’ll need to do a few more scans, but right now? We’re looking at permanent nerve damage.”  
\--

Aside from that, Winter Break passed uneventfully. Janus’ mother was on a business trip in Japan. Cornelius stayed away from Janus for the rest of the week, and Christmas was held in uncomfortable silence. Janus had called Remus, but got no answer. Remus had warned Janus that he probably wouldn’t be available during Winter Break. He made some white-lie excuse about “having too much fun.”

When Janus did go back to school, it was with a cane. He hated the stupid stick. He had to lean on it, since his lame leg was useless, but it drew too much attention. It clacked against the floor, announcing his presence wherever he went. It drew the ire of other classmates, begging them to call him names. Janus shrugged them off, redirecting his loathing against the cane.

Lunch came, and Janus looked for Remus. His friend was fascinated with the cane, hitting every surface he could find with it. Janus had already sat down, and was opening a box of lukewarm milk when Remus was struck with an idea. He giggled deviously, getting Janus’ attention.

“What?” Janus asked, already regretting whatever Remus was planning. He only giggled if he actually did something. 

“Ditch next class. I want you to meet someone.”

Janus did as he was told, curious who Remus had in mind. Remus was more social than Jan, sure, but actually introducing someone? That was new. When the seventh graders slowly cleared out of the cafeteria, sixth graders started to replace them. Remus was buzzing with excitement, vibrating the table. Eventually, after most of the sixth graders had made their way in and sat down, Remus’ friend joined them.

He was small, about Remus’ size. The bags under his eyes were heavy and dark- he was probably an insomniac. He wore a large purple hoodie, and brown bangs messily fell over one of his eyes. He rolled up to Remus’ other side, meager lunch already in his lap. Janus internally groaned. Had Remus made him miss science so that he could introduce him to another cripple?

The other kid looked Janus up and down. He was thinking to himself, eyes bright with fear. They were complete strangers.

“Virgil!” Remus started, lifting Janus’ cane high in the air. “This is my friend Dimitri. Dimitri, this is Virgil.” Janus looked over Virgil quickly, face completely blank. Virgil waved slightly. Janus turned back to Remus, but Virgil spoke first.

“Remus, what are you doing.” It wasn’t a question- he was telling Remus to stop. His voice wasn’t deep, per se, but tired. Virgirl was still going through puberty, but an existential tiredness permeated his voice. His posture was alert, on guard, but relaxed around his friend. He was anxious around Janus, but at ease around Remus, and the dichotomy manifested through constantly darting eyes. He looked at Janus whenever he thought he wouldn’t be caught doing it. 

“I’m trying to help you, Virgilicious,” Remus defended himself. “You said you wanted to find someone to help you with English, but you didn’t want to meet anyone. So, I did the job for you.”

So this hadn’t been about Janus’ leg. 

Virgil looked at his feet. He was considering something, based on the way his lip twitched. Finally, he looked up at Janus, in the eyes. 

“Hi. I’m Virgil.” He introduced himself in earnest. Janus didn’t exactly trust this Virgil guy, but he was friends with Remus. He could play nice, for now.  
\--

It had started as just tutoring. The three boys stayed after school, and helped each other with homework. Janus didn’t expect to grow so close to his friends. But the look on Virgil’s face when his English grade started improving was precious. And, having another person around meant he had someone to take his side if he argued with Remus. They didn’t argue a lot, but when Remus wanted to jump off a roof, Janus had someone else to dissuade him.

It was late afternoon in May. Finals were coming up, and Janus’ leg ached. He’d been going to physical therapy for months now, and made some real progress. But the constant fear about upcoming tests made him stressed- and when he was stressed, his leg hurt. Bad. He hadn’t needed the cane for a month now, but he used it today.

Since Janus was laying on the ground, under a tree, Remus had taken the cane and was pretending it was a sword. He tried challenging any unfortunate kid who walked by, and occupied the time between then by tapping it rhythmically. Virgil was under the same tree as Janus, listening to music. Sometimes a breeze would carry the sound, and Paramore songs graced his ears for a few moments.

“You’re using the cane again,” Virgil noted. Janus didn’t respond. He was hoping nobody would notice. “Does it hurt?” The question was genuine, filled with touching platonic concern.

“Like a bitch.”

Virgil nodded. He could tell Janus was hiding something, but he wouldn’t press his friend. Remus approached the two, cane hooked around his neck.  
“Ooo! Are you finally going to tell me why you have a cane now?” His question was playful in tone. He didn’t expect to get an answer.

Janus shook his head. “In your dreams, Duke.” It was a nickname Remus gave himself, but somehow caught on with friends. He hated his last name- Prince- and wanted something more official, but less regal. Remus grinned.

“That’s ok, Dee. I already know how you got it.” Janus’ eyes widened. There was no way he-

“In a grand battle! You, a dragon, and a daring knight! It was a tough fight, but you and the dragon eventually took down the shiny bastard- but not before he hurt your leg! You valiantly fought, despite the injury, to help the hapless dragon. And you stabbed the knight through his stupid heart!”

Janus rolled his eyes while Remus mimed the actions, bravely protecting Janus, who still lay on the ground, and fake stabbed Virgil, who pretended to be seriously hurt. They laughed, and Remus lay down next to Dee.

His eyes were big, barely holding back a smile. It tugged at his face, causing his lips to twitch wildly. Keeping a straight face for one second, the two burst into laughter again.

Janus held his sides. They ached in a delightful way. “Can I tell you guys something?” He asked, still giggling. Remus nodded, and Virgil removed his headphones. They were listening.

“My name is Janus.” He was looking up, through the tree’s leaves at the sky. He couldn’t look in their disappointed faces, angry that he’d lied to them, angry that he’d pretended to be their friend-

“Janice?” Remus repeated, slowly. His voice wasn’t angry. Instead, he was curious. “Well, if I had a girl’s name, I guess I’d go by something cooler.” Virgil used the cane to poke Remus in the stomach.

“It’s a cool name,” he said, smiling.

Remus threw a hand over his head. “Dragon! The knight has come back for revenge! I fear he has gotten the better of me!”  
\--

High School was better than Middle School for Janus- despite the arson. 

Or maybe because of the arson.

They hadn’t meant for the whole thing to go up in flames, but Janus couldn’t say that he was sad to see it burn. The night had gone perfectly, even if the plan went haywire.

Janus hadn’t taken much time to reveal his name to his friends, but his leg? That was a completely different issue. It wasn’t until a particularly bad moment in sophomore year. Remus had a melt down in the bathroom, and Janus left class to help. He didn’t know what had set him off, but he knew how to break him out. Janus quickly filled up a cup with water, and splashed his friend in the face. Remus was still pressed to the stall wall, hyperventilating, but the water seemed to put him on pause. He slowly backed away from the green, plastic wall, and looked at his hands. They were shaking, slightly. He looked up to Janus, who stared at his friend with concern. Janus didn’t show emotion in public, but his best friend was different. He felt safe enough around Remus.

Remus forced a quick smile, pretending like neither man had just seen what they did. He shoved his shaking hands in his pockets. The two looked at eachother, an entire conversation happening between just their eyes. Remus really didn’t want to talk about what had just happened, but Janus refused to let it go. It was a stern look, his brown eyes narrowing. They’d talk about it after school. Remus prayed that Janus would forget by then.

Sure enough, after school came. When the bell rang, Virgil joined his friends outside, in their usual study place. Remus was ancier than usual, and Janus was quieter than usual. Winter break was about to begin, but you couldn’t tell from the hot Florida weather. Virgil hadn’t seen Janus all day, but he did notice the cane was back.

“Does it hurt?” Virgil asked, referring to Janus’ leg. It shook violently when Janus put any weight on it. Janus nodded, refusing to make eye contact. He was sitting on the ground, back to the brick wall, next to Remus. He was looking at Remus’ hands. Remus had scratched at the walls of the stall, and left deep indents with his nails. His fingers were usually gross, but Janus was checking for blood or bruises. One nail would probably bruise, but Janus had caught him before anything started to bleed. Remus’ fingertips were still red.

Janus sighed, and gave Remus his hands back. “Like a mother fucker.”

Remus grabbed the cane, and pressed the curve against Janus’ neck. It wasn’t hard enough to threaten his breathing, but his intent was clear.

“YOU are going to tell me why you need this,” he shook the cane for emphasis, “Or I shall crush your windpipe!” Remus pressed it harder against his friend’s neck. Janus folded his arms.

“Do it.” he challenged, leaning forward. Now the cane was pressing against his throat, impending his breathing. Virgil watched the scene with confused distress. While Remus was as dramatic as always, Janus didn’t usually play along with it. And he never upped the ante like this.

“What are you-” he tried to interject, wheeling closer to the scene, but Janus interrupted him.

“DO IT! Kill me, Remus.” He challenged, pressing further still. Remus held the cane in place, following his orders. The world was silent around them for a long moment. Janus’ eyes burned with intensity, the fire behind them twisting brown irises almost yellow. Remus held his gaze, jaw set. 

Finally, Janus leaned back, snatching his cane from Remus’ grip. He sighed to himself, and then opened his backpack. “I can’t promise to help you with all your homework, but I have enough time for a few subjects-” 

Virgil wanted to scream. “Are you serious?” He nearly shouted, causing both friends to look up at him. “You’re going to pretend like that didn’t just happen?” 

Both friends shrugged. Remus muttered something about “fair is fair,” while Janus looked back to the books he was taking from his backpack. Virgil’s hands covered his face for a moment. If he was going to sort through his friends’ bullshit, he needed to reset.

Janus placed a book on the floor between Remus and him, and started to read. Virgil wheeled over the book, forcing Janus’ attention to shift.

“Incredibly mature,” Janus muttered, pushing him off the book and locking eyes with his friend. His face was blank, but his eyes were on fire. 

“What was that?” Virgil asked, gesturing to where Remus had held the cane not even a minute ago. Janus sighed. 

“Really Virge, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing,” he tried to reassure, but his tone was condescending. Virgil did tend to overreact.

Virgil wouldn’t bend this time. “No. You asked Remus to kill you. You begged him to.” Remus looked up at the sound of his name, but quickly his eyes shifted to Janus. Truthfully, he did want to know what caused that.

“I didn’t beg,” Janus responded, offended that Virgil would misrepresent him so. If they were going to talk about this, they would at least be honest. “I told him to do it. I wouldn’t beg for death like some, uh…”

“Kidnapped child!” Remus interjected. He didn’t know what side he was on, but he was creative.

“Exactly! I didn’t beg like some helpless child.” Janus finished, conveniently leaving out the darkest part of the simile. 

Virgil wasn’t phased. “But you did want him to kill you, right? Your leg hurts out of nowhere, and you want him to kill you?” That struck a nerve. Janus looked away from his friends, grabbing the book and stuffing it in his backpack. Remus locked eyes with Virgil, and in a moment they had a plan. Dee got up, awkwardly placing his weight between the cane and wall behind him. Remus took off running. He could beat Dee to the car if he sprinted. Virgil grabbed Remus’ backpack and headed to where Remus bolted. A small yellow car. 

Dee got there last, and sighed. “You’re really doing this?” He asked, looking at each of them. His back was to the sun, but it shone freely in Remus’ and Virgil’s eyes. They nodded solemnly. 

Why not? Janus thought to himself. He couldn’t very well avoid the question any longer. But he could control how he told it.

“Get in the car. It’s too hot out here.”  
\--

When he finished recounting the story, his friends were silent. Janus expected it, but was still scared. He didn’t like divulging personal information. It made him vulnerable.

Remus turned the cane around in his hands. He looked at it with a new fascination, while Virgil shook his head.

“Dee, if we’d known-”

“Stop.” Janus interrupted. “If I wanted sympathy, I would’ve told you back in middle school. I’m going to drop you off at home, and then we’re never going to talk about this again.”

Virgil slumped in his car seat. He didn’t like the plan, but agreed to it. Remus had a different plan in mind. He stopped twirling the cane, but held it like a baseball bat. He mimed swinging it at an opponent, probably imagining his brother on the other end.

“I have a great idea,” he mused, still looking at the cane. His eyes were alight, thoughts racing back and forth behind them. When he finally looked up, he met Janus’ and Virgil’s apprehensive looks with a shit eating grin.  
\--

Janus prepared the food like he was instructed. His father would think it was a nice gesture, something befitting a little fag like himself. If he sucked dick like a bitch, why not prepare food like one, too?

It hadn’t been hard to find all the ingredients. The house was huge, and so was the pantry. Spices of all sorts lined the cabinets. It was only a matter of biochemistry. He dropped the last spoonful of salt into the pot, and waited. The sun had gone down, and the soup was almost ready.

The smell wafted through the air. It was pungent, assaulting the nose with a variety of poultry scents. The soup was intentionally made that way. It masked the smell of gasoline.

When Cornelius came home, Janus was ready. He limped about the kitchen, serving a meager portion to himself, and a hearty portion to his father. Once again, his mother was off on a business trip. Janus faked a smile, ignoring the causal homophobic remark his father commented. He feigned eating the soup, too. If he was going to do this right, he had to sell it.

Cornelius ate his entire meal. Janus had served a little extra, just in case. It was unnecessary, but who could blame him for being careful? When Cornelius leaned back in his chair, and asked the inevitable question, Janus was ready.

“So, what’re your grades?” 

Janus smiled genuinely, for the first time all night. He dreaded the question.

“Oh you know…” he tried to hide the shaking of his leg. It was agonizing, but he had to repress it. He just needed another minute. “A few As” he muttered. That did it.

Cornelius tried to stand, anger rising in his chest. He slammed his hands on the table, but was still sitting. He tried again, this time leaning all his weight into the gesture. Still nothing.

The paralytic had set in.

Janus stood up and sauntered over to his father. He plucked the cane from it’s resting spot against the table, and smiled.

“What’s wrong, father?” he asked innocently. “Legs not working?” He walked back a few steps, allowing the cane to boom against the floor. “How pathetic.” His tone was disgusted. He continued moving. He’d planned the exact spot he would stand in. It was right by the door, where the gasoline lay. The scent of the soup still masked it. 

Slowly, he reached into his pants pocket, and took out a match box. His father was looking at him from the table, trapped in his own, violent body. His eyes widened when Janus lit a single match, and held it between two fingers.

“Don’t-” he pleaded, but it was too late. Janus dropped the match directly over the puddle of gasoline. His smile widened as his surroundings caught fire. The flames diligently marched across the house, following the trail of ethanol hungrily. Cornelius screamed, but Janus didn’t care. He turned around, opened the door, and walked out of the house.  
\--

When the police finally arrived, the fire had been put out. It ate the entire house, burning the mansion to the ground. Janus’ alibi had been set. He was studying for finals with his best friends- Remus and Virgil- when he got the horrible news. He called his mother, but she didn’t pick up. It was a different time zone, after all. He submitted his phone to the police, and the story checked out. The combined payouts from Cornelius’ life insurance and the home’s mortgage was substantial. Janus’ mother kept her job, god forbid she interacted with her own son, but the money was stashed away in a bank. It would put Janus and Virgil through college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, blackarrow_bagels1, why did you name Janus' awful father "Cornelius"? Great question! I studied Latin in high school (this will come up in another chapter) and used the "Ecce, Romani!" textbook. In that book, the father (a slave owner who could not be less removed from his kids) was named Cornelius. I'm saving all the historically and mythically relevant Roman names for a Remus backstory chapter.
> 
> Oh yea, Roman and Remus are going to have a backstory chapter. 
> 
> Fun fact: I ~subconsciously~ named Deceit JD. I literally made a Heathers reference accidentally.


	13. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's unhealthy habits finally catch up to him. He's bedridden for a few days, and Virgil is his primary caretaker. Basically, it's some hurt/comfort. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: self deprecating misogynistic language (in the author’s note), alcohol mentions, self harm mentions, light body horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol even my fluffiest chapter has trigger warnings. I just want to make sure y'all are aware of what you're getting into!
> 
> I’m a SLUT for hurt/comfort (my sister knows this) and have wanted to write this chapter for three days now. Anyone else got dumb fever moments? My roommate heard me muttering about transformers and DnD in a fever dream. She also saw me try to get a chip bag in the trash, miss, and then cry. She's seen a lot of my dumbest moments.
> 
> What is proving dough? It’s when you knead it, and then leave it alone for like an hour or two, so that it rises in a room temperature setting. I think it’s to stimulate the yeast before you bake it?

Roman almost didn’t wake up when his alarm went off. It was a struggle to get out of bed today. His body ached all over, and he could barely keep his balance. The nausea would go away soon- it always did.

The bus was crowded, as it usually was. 6:30 wasn’t rush hour, but all the workers on 24th Street used this route. Roman had to stand, and grabbed the bar above his head for balance. The ride was bumpy, and he could barely keep his eyes open. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, but morning heat had already preceded it. Beads of sweat appeared on Roman’s forehead. Today was hotter than normal.

The woman next to him shot him a weird look. He couldn’t understand what it was, but he didn’t care. He just had to get to work. She started to sway. The whole world started to sway. His grip on the hand rail loosened. Other bus riders started to shoot him looks. They were indistinguishable. Roman was too tired to parse out what their facial expressions meant. Another wave of heat baked his body from the inside out, and he closed his eyes. Just to steady himself. That was a mistake. He lost his balance, hand completely falling from the bar, and fell backwards. He was vaguely aware of the bus stopping, and someone shouting.  
\--

Patton got the call right as people started filtering in for breakfast. He didn’t recognise the number, and let it go to voicemail. His break was coming up soon- he could call them back later. Maybe it was a robocall. Logan had told him about robocalls a few weeks ago.

His phone rang again, from the same number. He finished kneading the dough and set a timer for it to prove. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and answered it. Logan didn’t say anything about a robo caller calling someone twice in five minutes.

“Sir? It’s your son,” Patton furrowed his brow. The voice on the other end was female- surely a prank caller would’ve said she was his daughter.

“Who?” Patton responded. Virgil told him once that he shouldn’t answer prank calls with honesty, but he didn’t care. This person probably had the wrong number, but they seemed impatient to talk.

“Your son! He was on the bus but he just collapsed!”

Patton did not know what she was talking about. Usually prank calls didn’t have such an intricate premise. 

“I don’t have a son-” Patton started, but he was interrupted by shouting on the other end. It was muffled, like the caller was holding the phone into her chest to drown out the surrounding noise. 

“He just collapsed out of nowhere! No, Larry, I don’t know who he is, but I think I’m talking to his father-” she sounded frantic. “Sir? Are you still there? Can you come down to Maple Street and- where are we- Maple Street and Belleview?”

Patton was still confused. “I don’t have a son!” He nearly shouted. 

“I checked his phone, you’re named ‘Dad,’ and we don’t know who else to call because he just collapsed but ambulance bills are so expensive and-” 

Realization dawned on Patton in waves. There was only one person who called him Dad. He would be at work right now, right? No, it was too early, he’d be on the bus. The woman who called said he was on a bus. She also said he collapsed.

“Where are you?” Patton asked, getting out a notepad. His manager would understand.  
\--

The day was a blur. Roman vaguely remembered falling. At some point he was drinking water, only because Patton held his back in place. They were outside, at a bus stop. Somehow he was home, and led to his bed. He didn’t see Virgil, and he hadn’t even thought of something to say. His head throbbed. He faded in and out of consciousness all morning.

Patton had left work as quickly as possible, scribbling why on a note. He found Roman where the lady said they were. She stood at a bus stop, and had draped Roman’s unconscious body on the bench. He was mostly out of the sun, but still sweat feverishly. Patton thanked the woman profusely (she was a teacher and apparently had dealt with situations like this before) and started to lead Roman back home. They had to walk in the sun, and Roman was only barely lucid. Patton stopped in the shade whenever he could, and helped his friend drink water. It took some time to get home, and Patton carried Roman for part of the journey, but eventually they made it. He dropped Roman on his bed, and let him sleep. Patton’s boss had called several times, and he needed to call back.

After making sure that he hadn’t lost his job, Patton checked on Roman. His body was still, like a cadaver on a coroner’s examination table. He heard breathing, and sighed. Roman was alive, at least. Thomas ran between Patton’s legs, purring and pressing his face into his owner’s shins. Patton picked up his friend and started to pet him. Logan mentioned how petting an animal helps people calm down, releasing some chemical in the brain. Thomas didn’t seem to mind, and Patton really needed this.

Around noon, Virgil came out of the room. Patton hadn’t even noticed that his brother had been asleep in the room with Roman. Had he even heard Roman’s breathing, or was that Virgil’s? Was Roman dead? Patton got up to check, and Virgil moved out of his way. His face bore confusion, but Patton could explain later- as soon as he knew he didn’t leave a corpse in Roman’s bed.

Patton placed two fingers on Roman’s neck. He felt a pulse. It was steady, but faster than normal. He was probably sick. Patton reemerged into the common area, and sat across from Virgil. Virgil hadn’t started working, but instead was waiting patiently. He knew what Patton’s expression was- he’d seen it before. When their father came home particularly drunk, Patton would check at nights and mornings to make sure he was still ok. Was Roman drunk?

“What happened?” Virgil asked, voice small. He didn’t need to whisper, but it was a habit. Drunks didn’t sleep especially deeply, so the boys would whisper to each other in their rooms if their parents fell asleep.

Patton rubbed his eyes. Worrying made him tired. “I don’t know. Roman didn’t make it to work this morning, and I had to pick him up. I think he’s really sick.” Thomas walked on the table between them, content to keep an eye on his two awake owners. Virgil nodded. He hadn’t gotten a good look at Roman in his bed, but the story checked out. Remus had an infamously immune system, and a single fever could take him out for a week.   
\--

Logan got home late. Again. Patton didn’t ask what had kept him late, but Virgil wondered. Logan was hiding something- he didn’t talk about work at all. He’d been getting home later and later at night. Today was a bit of a surprise, since he came home around 8. The University had ended the Spring Semester by now, surely. Virgil didn’t want to ask, since Logan didn’t want to answer. He dodged all of Patton’s work-related questions. Thomas didn’t seem to care, enjoying the absent minded chin scratches Logan gave every night. Roman was still asleep in his bed. 

Patton went to bed (he couldn’t miss work tomorrow after today’s stunt) and asked that Logan keep an eye on Roman. Logan agreed, reluctantly. They were hiding something from each other, too distracted with themselves to notice that the other held a secret. Virgil noticed, of course. His time around Janus made him especially quick to notice the tells. 

Soon, it was just Logan and Virgil. Thomas had chosen to sleep with Patton, enjoying the warmth of the older brother’s body. Logan seemed to have something on his mind, and kept staring at Roman’s door awkwardly. 

“You good?” Virgil asked, eyebrow raised. Logan wasn’t exactly subtle. He jumped at the question, whole body stiffening, realizing that he was being watched. 

“I’m fine, Virgil…. How are you?” He asked, trying to cover up whatever was happening. Virgil wouldn’t fall for that. 

“Dude, you’ve been staring at the door all night.” Logan sighed, and looked down at his feet. He wasn’t great at articulating how he was feeling, but he could say what he was thinking.

“Last night I… well, Roman and I got into an argument. We were shouting, and then…” this was clearly an uncomfortable subject for Logan. He swallowed hard, taking his pride with it. “And it ended when I hit him. And the next time I see him, he’s bedridden and seriously sick.”

Virgil exhaled in surprise. Logan had… hit someone? Roman? Roman, who caught everything Virgil threw at him. Roman, who dodged every time Remus tried to fight him. Roman, who kept a sword under his bed (Virgil only noticed because it reflected the sun directly into his eyes once). Logan had hit Roman- arguably the most athletic person in the whole apartment (not counting Thomas). Logan read Virgil’s expression instantly.

“I didn’t mean to hit him. I was going to apologize, today, but…” he trailed off, but Virgil understood. Apologizing to someone while they were asleep didn’t count, no matter how much Virgil wished it did. He’d apologized to Patton when he was asleep sometimes, just to get the words out and off his chest. It was easier when the person wasn’t aware they were being apologized to- maybe that’s why.

Logan sighed and headed for the bathroom. He would brush his teeth and then join Patton.  
\--

Virgil stayed awake for a few more hours. He had to answer some emails, and a few more lines of code. The night dragged on, when he was alone. He couldn’t distract himself by thinking of a dumb name for Roman. He still tried, but every time his mind wandered. Eventually, he had to stop and just go to bed. He wasn’t in the right headspace, and he couldn’t get any work done like this.

He lay awake in bed, ready for sleep to take him, when something pulled him out of a tired haze. He turned his head, seeing where the noise came from. Roman was muttering in his sleep. Virgil hadn’t heard Roman ever do this before. He listened to the sounds, trying to parse them into words. Something about a raisin-oatmeal cookie. He saw Roman’s arm twitch slightly. He was dreaming.   
\--

When Virgil woke up around noon, he found Logan in the room. Logan had pulled up a chair and notebook and was reading something, taking notes with his other hand. Thomas slept on Roman’s chest. Virgil stifled a scream (he didn’t react well to surprises).

“Hi, Logan. What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to be quiet. If Roman was still asleep, then he’d been asleep for over a full day now. 

Logan looked up, noticing that Virgil was awake. He glanced at Roman, and then responded equally quietly, “Patton asked me to watch Roman today. I believe he has a fever, and is suffering from severe exhaustion.” 

A small plate of food was balanced on Roman’s night stand. Virgil guessed that Logan made it. Virgil blinked a few times, his brain still getting used to being awake. His insomnia medication made waking up a little harder than normal.  
\--

Virgil’s shower was quick, but refreshing. The building had had a problem with hot water, but must’ve fixed it last night. When he came out, Thomas was roaming around the kitchen, basking in the sunlight from a small window. When he went back to his room, Logan was still reading.

Virgil progressed with his day like normal, trying to ignore a nagging feeling in his stomach that something was wrong. It distracted him, clawing at his attention span and making coding nearly impossible. Virgil went back to his room, and saw Logan pacing. 

“Ah, Virgil! Could you look after Roman? I have to get to work soon.”

Virgil didn’t know what job Logan still had (his research had been reviewed, school was over- what was left for a chemistry major to do?), but obliged nonetheless. Virgil worked from home, so he could reasonably take care of Roman. When he nodded, Logan grabbed a bag (had that always been by the door?) and left.  
\--

It was mid afternoon when Roman woke up. Virgil was working in the bedroom, where he could keep an eye on Roman and Thomas. 

“Finally awake, Prince Aurora?” He asked. Roman tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He still looked tired, and a tremor ran through his hands. 

“Mm. Where’s Patton?” he groaned, reaching for his phone. Virgil didn’t know what he remembered from yesterday- Patton explained that Roman passed out on the bus and had to be picked up. Roman’s hand reached the plate Logan left on his nightstand, and grabbed an apple. He bit into it absentmindedly while looking at his phone. Virgil watched him for a moment, trying to gauge what his next action would be. 

Roman spent a few minutes in bed. His whole body ached, and his newest cuts itched. At some time during his rest, his body radically switched from feverishly hot to feverishly cold, and he tried to stifle a shiver. Blankets covered his whole body, on top of his work uniform, but it wasn’t enough. 

Roman tried to get off the bed, determined to go to work. He realized he’d slept for a day (and missed all the calls from his managers) and that just wouldn’t do. He had to get back out, and earn his quarter of the rent. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Roman felt ill. The nausea he’d experienced last time he woke up was back, with a vengeance. He would’ve face planted, had Virgil not caught him. Roman steadied himself, using the metal frame of the wheel chair as support, and looked at Virgil. They locked eyes, trying to discern what the other was thinking. There was no way Virgil would let Roman leave, but there was no way Roman would let Virgil keep him here. 

Roman started to move towards the kitchen, but stopped short. A wave of lightheadedness consumed him, and he swayed in place. Virgil said something, but Roman didn’t understand it. He felt Virgil’s warm hands on his lower back, pushing him back towards the bed. It did look appealing. Roman groaned in protest, but it was weak. He was weak.  
\--

Roman spent the next few hours alternating between sleep and wakefulness, but Virgil kept him bedridden. Thomas was his co conspirator, napping peacefully on Roman’s legs whenever he wanted to get out of the apartment. His face was too cute to disturb, and Roman reluctantly spent the day in bed. 

Virgil found that he worked better in the bedroom. Something about his anxiety quieted around Roman. He could focus when his patient was in view. Roman’s steady breathing was calming. 

It was calming, except for when he muttered in his sleep. He wasn’t unconscious, like yesterday he was dreaming. Fever dreams earned their reputation for being insane, and Roman’s were no different. Virgil tried to ignore whatever he heard his roommate mutter, although some of it made excellent blackmail material. Some of it was intriguing, but Virgil tried to push it out of his mind. It was creepy and rude to listen to someone sleep.

“No por favor,” Roman muttered, shaking his head. Virgil held back a smile. He had failed Spanish 2, but technically he passed Spanish 1. He could understand some of what his roommate muttered. “Remus, stop it,” he muttered again, shaking more. Virgil pretended like he hadn't heard that. It sounded like a plea.

Roman woke with a start, gulping in air. He wasn’t shaking any more, but his hands were wrapped around his stomach. Virgil shot him a look. It wasn’t judgemental or angry- it was concerned. Roman waved his hand in the air, trying to reassure his roommate. It was just a nightmare, it couldn’t hurt him.

It was a nightmare about Remus. Again. Roman found that a few themes permeated his nightmares. The opening theme of “Swashbuckler!” and Remus crying blood always appeared, in some form, when he was stressed. This time both had shown up- he was a child, practicing for an especially troublesome fight scene, when something distracted him. He wasn’t sure what- dream logic- but it was just enough time for Remus to get the better of him. Remus had locked him in the room, again. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He pleaded with his brother, desperate to get out, but nothing worked. The room was dark, as usual, but there was something else. A monster was in there, too. It raked a long calw across Roman’s stomach. That’s when he woke up- when he should’ve died.

He gathered the blankets around his waist, and tried to sleep again.  
\--

Another nightmare, Virgil noted. He could tell by the intonation of Roman’s muttering. Even Thomas noticed, and lept from the bed. Roman wasn’t an active sleeper, but Thomas didn’t want to sleep on someone who woke up with a jolt every few hours. Logan was gone longer than usual, and Patton hadn’t come home yet. Virgil wouldn’t have noticed the late hour, if his stomach hadn’t growled in protest. He usually waited for Patton to come home before eating dinner, but no roommates had come back. He quickly texted his brother, and Logan for good measure, and moved to the kitchen. 

Should he make something for Roman? He hadn’t eaten for a few hours, so he’d probably be hungry. What did he even want? Virgil didn’t want to wake his roommate- who finally fell asleep again- should he guess? Remus always ate whatever looked unhealthiest- was Roman the same? Or was he completely different- the twins were different in almost every way.

Virgil settled on making chicken soup. That was Patton’s go to whenever Virgil had gotten sick. He claimed it was infallible, and could cure anything. Virgil doubted that last statement, but it did seem like a safe option. As far as he knew, Roman wasn’t vegetarian. 

When he came back, Roman was shaking. He was feverish, but didn’t seem to be in the midst of a nightmare. He slurring in Spanglish, both languages being muffled by his tired state. Virgil thought he heard something about a sword, but he wasn’t sure. Virgil held onto the second bowl of soup. There wasn’t a free space to place it where it wouldn’t spill. He’d be here when Roman woke up, anyways.

Roman awoke later. Virgil wasn’t sure how long- he’d stopped caring about time. Roman looked better, but still weak. His shaking was almost imperceptible, and he was much more lucid.

“I made you soup,” Virgil explained, placing the bowl and a spoon into Roman’s hands. Roman gratefully ate it, enjoying the taste and warmth. It spread heat throughout his body, emanating from his heart. He welcomed the change from the fever’s cold. 

When he was done, Roman tried to put the dish away. Virgil wouldn’t have it. He blocked the doorway physically. Roman pressed a hand against the wall, to steady himself. He wasn’t going to let his fever stop him this time. Virgil met his gaze, jaw set. He didn’t feel great about it, but he would fight a sick man. Roman’s eyes shone with the same intensity- he would fight a man in a wheelchair.

Virgil tried to snatch the bowl from Roman’s hand, but he was too slow. Roman, even when sickness dulled his mind, predicted Virigl’s move. He waited until Virgil stretched out, and pushed past his obstacle of a roommate. He strode towards the kitchen, praying that his lightheadedness wouldn’t be too much. He staggered, but made it. Mostly. He did fall into the sink, slightly. It was close enough. Virgil was right behind him, making flustered noises. 

Roman smiled, and started washing the dish. His hands were shaking, and his vision was unreliable. He saw two bowls, slowly moving apart from one another. He was vaguely aware that he was leaning forward, head too heavy to keep upright. The apartment was unbearably hot. He was panting- the standoff took more energy than he thought. His legs ached. A throbbing headache pounded against his skull, repercussions of his quick movements. It was accompanied by a light dizziness that threatened to be the final straw.

He was washing with the sponge, and the soapy water was refreshingly cold. The sensation was shocking, and made it all the harder to hold onto the bowl. He tried to get his balance, shifting his weight unsteadily between his screaming thighs. This might have been a mistake.

As he lurched to the side, overstimulation from the sponge’s texture brushing against the hand holding the bowl, he felt something stabilize him. Two cold hands, placed around his hips, held him down. Virgil’s fingers wrapped around Roman’s torso, anchoring him. Virgil couldn’t stop Roman now, but he could help.

Roman finished washing the bowl, but found himself stalling. He liked this feeling. The world still spun, and his head throbbed with a pain he rarely experienced, but that’s not what occupied all his attention. His thoughts were preoccupied with his roommate, who was right behind him. His hands were firmly latched on, holding him in place. Roman missed being held like this, and almost leaned into the touch. He pretended to wash the bowl, reveling in the excuse. Virgil’s frigid fingers were comforting. 

Roman dropped the bowl in the sink and sighed. It was time to go back to his prison. Virgil removed his grip, and moved to give Roman space. Roman stumbled back to his bed, no longer caring if his roommate saw him vulnerable. He wasn’t trying to fight, he didn’t need to be strong right now. He crawled into bed, and watched Virgil roll in behind him. 

“That was really stupid,” Virgil started. His voice was dry and direct.

“I washed my own dish, what’s the harm?” Roman regretted the question as soon as he said it. He wasn’t known for making the smartest decisions, but he usually could talk his way out a problem. He’d only invigorated Virgil, however, who puffed his chest with his response.

“What’s the- You can barely stand! What if you fell and hurt yourself more? I can’t carry you like Patton can. You need to be more careful!” Virgil waved his hands emphatically, trying to impart whatever significance Roman seemed to dodge. Truthfully, Roman knew Virgil was right. That stunt was stupid, and who knows what would’ve happened if he’d fallen. 

Roman looked Virgil in the eyes. He hadn’t noticed when Virgil got closer, but they were face to face now. Virgil felt Roman’s breath on his face, hot and slightly salty. Roman could smell Virgil’s deodorant- it was a generic brand, but enticing. He chanced a look at Virgil's pale lips. A dull heat rose to Virgil’s cheeks, and he noticed the small scar across Roman’s eyebrow. It was near the end- no one would notice if they were farther away.

Virgil cleared his throat and backed away. “Get some sleep.”  
\--

Roman was fast asleep when Logan came home. Virgil was starting to drift off, too, when the door clicked open. It was soft, but enough to wake Virgil. Logan quickly peeked into the room, probably to make sure neither roommate had died in his absence, and then disappeared. It sounded like he was going to bed, and Thomas left the room. Virgil started to fall asleep again, pushing out the ominous creaking sounds the apartment rumbled occasionally. The last thing he heard was from Roman.

“Everybody loves the villain.”  
\--

When Virgil woke up again, Roman was gone. He was probably at work. Virgil started to get ready for the morning when he remembered. Just then, Roman entered the room, staggering slightly. His pajamas hugged his body, red shirt catching the light at just the perfect angles to show off impressive back muscles. How did you even work out your back? Virgil’s drifting thoughts were dragged back to reality when Roman started talking.

“Everything alright, Veronica Sawyer?” Virgil stayed silent. Not only was Roman standing, but he seemed fine. His speech was clear, he wasn’t sweating, and he even made a witty remark.

“Veronica Sawyer? Like heathers? Ugh, I waste my best material on you.” Roman turned around, and climbed back in his bed. Virgil was still stunned. He was more mobile than yesterday. 

Virgil ventured into the rest of the apartment. Logan was gone- had he even come home? Patton was sitting at the table, watching a video about ferrets. He perked up when he heard Virgil’s wheelchair (the floorboards loved to creak) and smiled brightly.

“Have you seen this video?” He moved to the side, making room for his brother. There was just enough room for Virgil to squeeze in. They finished the video, laughing. 

“When did you get home?” Virgil asked, looking in his brother’s eyes. They were a duller color than he remembered. The bags under his eyes were deeper, too. In fact, the skin around his face seemed tighter. Patton looked away, playing with his hands nervously. He was an awful liar, but the truth was embarrassing.

“I don’t think I looked at the clock when I came home. I worked the closing shift, so it had to be late,” he equivocated. He laughed to himself. “I’ll warn you next time,” he promised.

Virgil nodded his head. He had been worried all night for Roman, and didn’t need Patton adding to that. He rolled back into the bedroom, where his laptop was, saw Roman’s long body stretched out on the bed, and decided to work in the common area. He hadn’t worked yesterday, and needed to make it up. The coding wasn’t particularly complicated, but the sheer amount was daunting. He worked as quickly as possible. He’d taken on a few extra projects, as a precaution. With Roman out of commission, they’d be a little short on rent this month. Virgil could make up Roman’s portion- it was the least he could do. He’d assaulted him on their first meeting, maybe this would make it up?

“You think about Roman a lot.” His psychiatrist’s words rang in his ears. It made sense to think about Roman a lot, right? He spent most of his time at home, so thinking about the people who shared that home only made sense. He thought about Patton and Logan, too. They weren’t as dramatic, they didn’t need as much thought as Roman did. They weren’t sick either, they didn’t need as much help as Roman did.

Sunlight stretched onto the table. Thomas leapt onto Virgil’s keyboard, messing with the newest line he was writing. Virgil tried to shoo him away, but Thomas wouldn’t budge. He meowed in protest, and laid down. Virgil sighed. If he moved his laptop, maybe he could get some work done.

Virgil moved to the bedroom, again. He’d worked there a few nights ago; he could do it again. He started to code again. His attention was being pulled away, however. The elephant in the room weighed on his chest, and he couldn’t get any work done without addressing it.

“Roman?” His roommate looked up at the sound of his name. “Do you remember last night?”

Roman’s head moved side to side. “Bits and pieces.” Virgil was going to have to be more specific, which was what he was dreading.

“After that reckless stunt you pulled.”

Roman was silent for a moment. The air was still, as both men held their breath. The ball was in Roman Prince’s court.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! The original title for this chapter was Accepting Anxiety, Part One. There is a part two, but I think it's chapter 15. 
> 
> Anyone else in this fandom watch Voltron: Legendary Defender? It's a so-so show with an awful fandom (Dirty Laundry is a good fic and I will die on this hill). The reason I bring it up is in season one, there is a wonderful moment when Keith holds Lance's vulnerable body and protects him in a fight until they can get him proper medical attention, but after that Lance doesn't remember it at all. Klance shippers go feral for this moment ("we had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!"). I didn't intentionally try to replicate this, but I do realize how similar this is to what I wrote. Oops


	14. Improvements and Setbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is recovering, slowly. He's at the point where he can at least stand when a surprise visitor comes to the Light Sides' apartment.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: swearing in the author’s note, death threats, torture mention (like once but still worth saying)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said mailpeople because i didn’t want to assume the gender of mailworkers but like… does it sound weird to anyone else? 
> 
> This isn’t a Sympathetic!Deceit chapter, but you’ll see why he’s acting like a cobra instead of a gardener snake later in the chapter.
> 
> I realized i said that Virgil showered in the last chapter. Please excuse me, but i’m a duMBASS
> 
> also I’m a multishipper IDK if yall can tell
> 
> fun fact: the working title for this chapter was Business In The Front, Party In The Back. I do not remember why

Roman’s fever was average, but seemed worse because of his exhaustion. He was under roommate imposed house arrest for a few weeks, which gave him time to experiment. He could walk around, slowly, a few times a day. Mostly, he just slept. His nightmares were caused by stress, which was a balancing act. One the one hand, not going to work saved him from most physical stressors in his life. On the other hand, it caused him mental stress. When he was awake, he spent his time silently worrying about rent. He’d already been fired from his job at the drugstore. Roman couldn’t say he’d miss that one in particular, but the hole in his income was troubling.

He tried to bring it up with whomever was awake the same time he was, but each roommate dismissed it. Roman’s sleeping schedule was about as consistent as his sexuality was heterosexual. Most of the windows were closed, but let light in. Earlier in the week, he’d lost the ability to distinguish sunlight from moonlight- bright was bright.

The first week was alright. He spent it in a sleepy haze, and didn’t remember most of it. He’d fought with Virgil over something, and then they got close. Comfortably close. Virgil asked him, later, if he remembered that day. It was blurry, but how could he forget it? He felt his heart decidedly skip a beat when he saw Virgil’s eyes, large and intense. They were an earthly shade of brown, like the color of a wise tree or ancient ruins. They were young and dark, but tinged with a vibrant streak that Roman couldn’t quite describe. 

The second week was much worse. He couldn’t tell which roommate was home, and every time they chastised him for being out of bed. Thomas purred happily whenever he got up, thirsty for attention. His cuts itched, but Roman refused to scratch them. He couldn’t risk cutting now, since anyone could find him. He wasn’t very tempted to, since he was only awake for about 20 minutes at a time.

The third week was better, but not as great as the first one. He was more mobile, and awake for hours at a time. He could eat more food before getting nauseous, and his roommates were finally letting him move around more. They still wouldn’t let him outside, and one always seemed to be on guard duty, but he wasn’t met with disappointed looks if he wandered into the common area.   
\--

He woke up suddenly. It wasn’t a nightmare, but the dream was strange. He was fighting something, but he couldn't see it. It spoke in a thousand different voices, but not in a language Roman was familiar with. He tried to lunge at it, sword in hand, but it was incorporeal. 

At least it was over. Roman looked around, seeing sunlight come in from the bedroom window. Virgil wasn’t in the room, and neither was Thomas. Roman wondered which roommate he was stuck with this time.

He was still tired, and his body wasn’t lethargic, but not energetic in its movements. He lumbered into the common area, unsure of what time it was. Logan was sitting at the table, reading something on his phone. Roman hadn’t talked to him for a while- the last time they had a “conversation” was their fight. Roman didn’t get along with Logan as well as Virgil or Patton did, but they’d never hit each other. He felt guilty about the encounter, and Logan clearly did, too. The few times he remembered seeing Logan after the fight were sparse, and short. He’d try to leave, and Logan would block him. He’d try to get up, and Logan would beat him to whatever he was trying to get. He’d try to get out of bed, and Logan would push him back in. They didn’t speak.

Roman fixed himself a snack and across from Logan. Logan looked up, just over the top of his glasses frames, and then looked back down at whatever he was reading. They sat in silence for a few minutes, as Roman tried to collect his thoughts. They were slower than normal, and he wanted to pick his words precisely. 

“I’m sorry, Logan.”

It was simple and straightforward. He hoped Logan would appreciate that. Roman knew his dramatic flair usually grinded Logan’s gears. Logan looked up from his phone, with a blank expression that reflected surprise.

“For what?” he asked.

“For our fight!” Roman responded. What else would he need to apologize for? Logan thought to himself for a moment, then smiled.

“You already apologized.” Roman furrowed his brow. He didn’t remember saying anything- but this was something he wouldn’t just forget. Logan clarified, “A few days ago. I’m not sure if you remembered then, either. You’ve apologized a few times, but you were too tired to remember. Regardless, I accept your apology and similarly want to apologize to you. I acted immaturely, and you got hurt. For that, I am sorry.”

Roman blinked a few times, processing what Logan said. He’d already apologized… several times? He grew hot with embarrassment. Logan also apologized to him. Roman considered it. It was a dry delivery, and didn’t sound very regretful, but Logan wasn’t very emotional anyways. He said he was sorry that Roman got hurt- not that they had argued and shouted in each other’s faces. Roman finished his food and went back to the bed. He was already tired again.  
\--

The week passed slowly. Roman’s system was fighting a fever, but had more trouble fighting the exhaustion. He grew tired easily, slept for most of the day, and his body still hurt. He was taking pain medication regularly for headaches. Each of his roommates noticed this and tried to accommodate him. There was an unspoken agreement that they would never let it get this bad again.

Patton’s shifts at the bakery were longer than normal. He closed on the days he didn’t open, but then opened on the very next day. Virgil noticed how tired Patton looked, when he thought he was alone. His posture was resigned and his eyes sunken. Whenever Virgil tried to bring up the topic, Patton waved it away, or dodged it entirely. There was always a distraction- Thomas was doing something he shouldn’t be, a phone rang, a new video to see, etc. 

Logan continued to work strange hours. He avoided all questions about work, and most people. He interacted with Thomas and Patton the most. He seemed more on edge than usual, like he was guardian something. At first Virgil had just assumed he had a secret, like most people. Virgil had a few of his own that not even Patton knew about. But Logan was acting unreasonably suspicious. Virgil noticed, but didn’t say anything. They didn’t talk long enough to bring it up, and he didn’t want to confront Logan head on. 

Virgil was content to keep things the way they were. It wasn’t perfect, but it was functional. Patton still smiled, Logan occasionally hung out, and Roman was feeling better enough to come up with dumb insults. Something was going wrong with each person, but it hadn’t boiled to the surface for any of them. It was the calm before the storm, and Virgil could live with that.  
\--

Of course Virgil’s life would be the first to go wrong. It was the end of the week, afternoon. Roman had just woken up, and was putting on clothes. Virgil was out in the common room, coding, and Thomas was pacing between the two. Patton and Logan were at work, and Virgil had no idea when either was coming home.

Someone knocked on the door. Virgil jumped, Thomas scrambled for the other end of the apartment, and Roman sighed. 

“Were we expecting anyone?” Virgil asked. Roman knew Patton and Logan better, he would know their schedules.

“No.” Roman called out. He closed the door of their room, leaving Virgil alone to deal with the mystery guest. He placed a hand on the door knob, but hesitated. Most robberies happened in the day- but would they have knocked? Was it a neighbor? Virgil didn’t know any of his neighbors. Who else knocked on doors- political canvassers, religious missionaries, mailpeople, people who lost their keys…

“Virgil, I know you’re in there. Are you going to let me in or not?”

Virgil felt himself pale as a wave of dread washed over him. Janus was on the other side of the door. How had he known? Was Remus there, too? They had to be mad at him. What were they going to do? Would they hurt Roman? 

He backed away, feeling his breathing quicken. He was panicking. It didn’t have to devolve into a panic attack. He just had to remember what Dr. Shell said… remember where you are. Focus on your immediate surroundings. Virgil stared at the floor, wishing he could melt into it. Inhale for four seconds, and hold it. He tried to hold it, but felt himself getting light headed. He exhaled too quickly, and breathed in again. 1, 2, 3, 4. He could only hold it for five seconds, but he exhaled slower. 1, 2, 3, 4. He held it for longer, this time, and exhaled slowly. The muscles in his back and shoulders loosened. He felt better, but not by much.

Roman came out the his room, still woozy. He saw Virgil on the other side of the apartment and scoffed. He made his way towards the door and began to open it. Virgil tried to stop him, but he was too late. Janus sauntered into the apartment, smiling. He looked around, clearly judging it. He was showing emotion- he was confident. That meant he had a plan. Virgil braced himself for whatever it was. Janus was only one person- he couldn’t ruin Virgil’s life, right?

“Nice place,” Janus commented. His drawl made it hard to decipher if he was serious or not. Thomas peeked a head around the corner, back completely rigid. He didn’t like new people. 

“Excuse me, do we know you?” Roman asked. He saw how uncomfortable Janus made Virgil, and dropped all social tact. He crossed his arms and stood impatiently. Virgil admired Roman’s effort, even if it was undermined by his tired posture.

Janus laughed. “Oh, I’m a friend of Remus’. And Virgil’s.” Virgil balled his hands into fists. Were he a more brash man, he would’ve slapped that stupid, satisfied smirk of Janus’ face. Roman’s eyes narrowed at his brother’s name. He eyed Janus again, searching for any indication of why Remus would like him. If Remus had a friend, then they had to be just as insufferable as Remus himself. Who else could get along with that goblin?

“Hm. I don’t recognise you,” Roman responded. He was still tense. That only emboldened Janus, who grabbed a chair from the table and spun it around. He sat on it deftly, eyeing Virgil. His gaze was predatory.

“What are you doing here, snake?” Virgil hissed. He didn’t know what Janus’ game was, but he was sure he didn’t want to play along. Jan sighed.

“Really Virgil, did you think I wouldn't find you? You’re one of us, I’ll always know where you hide.” Virgil shifted under his friend’s scrutiny. He could see both Roman and Thomas in the room, yet he felt completely isolated. Janus examined his gloved hand, but Virgil still felt like he was being watched.

“Anyways it’s time you come home. You made your point, ok? We won’t scare you like that again.” Virgil felt a chill run down his spine. Roman looked to Virgil, unsure what he should do. Virgil held his gaze for a moment. It was just enough.

“I am home, Dimitri. I think it’s time you leave.” Janus looked up when Virgil said his middle name. It was a subtle jab, but stung all the same. Janus leaned forward in his seat, clearly not leaving. His voice was quieter, but Virgil heard every word.

“So that’s how we’re gonna play it? Fine. This is your new house, hm? Tell me, just how much does your new family know about you? How would they react if someone, anyone really, told them the truth? The whole, nasty, illegal, dirty truth? Why, they’d turn as quickly as your parents did. Not even your brother could love you after that. You’d be all alone again. And then come running back to us. Do yourself a favor. Come home now, and skip all that icky family ruining truth telling.”

Virgil was speechless. Rage and fear filled his body, each fighting for dominance over his mood. Dee’s words were sickening, but accurate. He looked away in shame, unable to meet his former friend’s eyes. Janus remained still, analyzing Virgil’s response. His argument made sense, and he watched as Virgil thought it out slowly. He was beginning to lose hope in himself- he’d realize Janus was right any moment now. 

“Ok, I think it’s time for you to leave.” Roman intercepted the moment, striding towards his brother’s friend. Janus stood up before Roman could lift him. Janus looked over Roman, noticing just how similar he was to Remus. Remus was usually the one to defend Virgil, physically if necessary. They had a similar stance, back completely straight and head held high, like royalty. Roman was physically bigger, more muscular and proportional than Remus was, but not by much. Janus wondered if Roman shaved his face.

Roman shifted under Janus’ gaze. The exhaustion was creeping up again, pulling his center of balance backwards. He kept his eyes level with Janus’, trying to still appear tough. He wasn’t the most intimidating man, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted this guy to leave.

Virgil rolled behind Roman, and Thomas jumped to his lap. They were a team. Janus watched Virgil move, his plan failing. Janus sighed. He might be leaving now, but he would still get Virgil back. Janus slithered to the door, but stopped in its frame. Roman and Virgil had followed, just to make sure he left. Roman wouldn’t take any chances with one of Remus’ friends, and Virgil didn’t trust Janus to just… leave without putting up a fight. He was scheming something.

“Well, I’ll be off, now. Call me whenever you want to come back home, Virge. Oh, and- Roman, was it?-” Janus grabbed the taller man’s neck, and fiercely brought him in for a kiss. His other hand snaked down Roman’s waist, and slid something in his pocket. As quickly as he’d done it, his hand was on Roman’s cheek, holding him tenderly. The kiss was rough, since Roman didn’t know what was happening for the beginning of it. Janus kept his eyes on Virgil the entire time, letting his friend’s disbelief enrich the moment. He released Roman from the kiss, turned on one heel, and disappeared out the door. Virgil was still shocked, desperately trying to repress a jealous hatred. Roman blinked a few times, replaying the last minute over and over again in his head. Neither roommate was exactly sure what had just happened. Roman stumbled towards the nearest chair. Dizziness claimed him, and the world spun. Virgil led him to Dee’s chair, trying to gauge Roman’s reaction to Janus. How much did he glean from their conversation? Did he remember Janus from highschool? Would he be mad? 

When Roman finally broke the silence, it was with a question that was more of a squeak than an inquiry.

“Who was that?”  
\--

Janus came home to the usual mess. He didn’t see Remus, from the door, but he saw his… trail. Scraps of paper formed a scattered, yet linear path across the apartment. The paper was mostly edges, cut in a hurry. Some of the edges were burnt- Remus’ main way of showing disapproval. If something didn’t meet his standards, a little bit of light pyrotechnics was the punishment. Remus also used fire for the things he liked, but that’s something Janus tried not to think about.

Janus followed the trail around the apartment. Whatever Remus had been doing, he’d been mobile. He entered almost every room (not Janus’) and came out of each, several times. Finally, the trail ended in his room. The door was closed, and eerie piano music softly wafted out from under the door. Janus hesitated. Should he knock, and risk breaking Remus of his concentration? He decided to hold off. He had private matters to deal with, and so did Remus. They could talk later.  
\--

The mail drop barely contained anything of value, but recently it bore troubling fruit. A few letters, the third of which was delivered today, all came from the same person. They neglected to give a name, or return address. Janus didn’t see how they could’ve sent the letter without one, unless they delivered them personally. In that case, this person was clearly an idiot- why go through the trouble of delivering a letter when you could just talk to the recipient?

Janus opened the mail with a knife, expecting, yet still disappointed with, the results. A death threat. The script was typed, or precisely copied. Technically, this letter was addressed to both inhabitants of the apartment, but Janus hid the note from Remus. He’d gotten two others, which weren’t the same verbatim but all carried the same idea. Janus wasn’t intimidated, but hid the notes from Remus regardless. Janus could contextualize situations better, and he didn’t want to scare or worry his friend. Remus’ mind tended towards the worst possible scenarios, and could easily be preoccupied with fantasies of torture and other unsavory things. It was better that he didn’t see the letters, didn’t concoct a dire future to whisper to himself at night. 

Janus read the note, despite knowing what it would say. It was a death threat, but it was more than that. Janus had received threats all his life- he knew when one was worth taking seriously. There were clues, across all three letters. Whoever was threatening him knew about his job as a lawyer, and the Oranssi case. They didn’t appear to know that Oranssi had escaped custody and the matter was suspended, however, since they threatened ominous bad things if Janus didn’t drop the case. They hadn’t revealed much about who the sender was, but this last note was special. There was a bit of white powder on the edge, and a few more particles in the envelope itself. Janus saved both. He could take this to the police tomorrow.  
\--

Remus joined Janus later that night. His hair was wild, but otherwise he seemed calmer than normal. His smile was gentle, almost tired.

“I started drawing something new,” he explained, showing Janus graphite that had somehow gotten on his hands, arms, face, and thigh. He must’ve been at it all day, since he looked genuinely tired. Remus moved closer to Janus, plopping himself down on the lawyer’s lap. They were still for a hollow moment. They missed Virgil.

“I saw your brother today.” Janus’ words were soft, and started to play with Remus’ hair. Remus started off into space, and Janus wasn’t sure he understood what was said. Janus paused, waiting for Remus’ reaction. He felt bad about making a plan behind Remus’ back, when it concerned the Prince Family, but he didn’t want to involve his friend in this. The chances of Virgil actually coming home today were slim. What he had gone there to do was plant doubt in Virgil’s roommate’s minds- and he’d succeeded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c’mon jan if you want virge to rejoin you why are you being so mean to him you stupid snek. Take a sip every time I write “you” lol. I just realized i wrote Dee like Mother Gothel from Tangled what am i DOING. 
> 
> gotta say, it feels weird knowing that I'm going to have to write police in other chapters. I'll do my best to barely feature them. 
> 
> #BlackLivesMatter


	15. The 2 AM Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Light Sides share some personal secrets.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: self harm, body horror? Related to the self harm, (implied?) death threat, swear words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most chapters happen a few days-weeks after the previous one, except for flashbacks and this one. It’s a direct continuation from the last chapter. I heard somewhere that if a cat presses its face into your body that’s a sign of love. I wouldn’t know, since i’m allergic, but I think it’s adorable. Sorry about playing the pronoun game (literally four guys and I use he/his/he’s so OFTEN)

Roman and Virgil were still reeling. They couldn’t look at each other, but sat in silence for what felt like hours. Roman Logan came home first, but Parton wasn’t far behind. They came home to a strange sight- Virgil and Roman were sitting, silent. Roman looked bewildered, and his sunken eyes were deep in thought. Virgil looked angry, his features tight, but similarly lost in thought. Only Thomas acknowledged his owners’ presence, purring happily and pressing his face into each man’s shins. 

“What happened?” Logan asked, sitting across from his roommates. They finally acknowledged his presence, Roman quickly mustering a fake smile, and Virgil releasing the tension from his back.

“N- nothing happened,” Roman tried to excuse, refusing to make eye contact. He was already flustered, which made preforming being fine much harder. Logan looked in Roman’s eyes, and then Virgil’s. Each man seemed content to avoid his question. Logan sighed.

“Clearly something happened. Virgil, you completely ignored when I came home which is highly unusual considering your anxiety. Roman, I’ve never seen you sit near Virgil this long without some witty comment. Something’s distracting both of you, so I’ll ask again- what happened?”

At that moment, Patton came through the door, looking more exhausted than ever. Virgil has seen his brother this fragile a few times before, but that was only during high school finals. He sat next to Roman, slumping in a chair. Their eyes were underscored by dark bags. Virgil sighed. It was last afternoon, but he felt like he’d been awake for hours. Guilt welled in the pit of his stomach, shifting this way and that, turning the uncomfortable silence unbearable.

“It’s my fault,” he started. Three pairs of brown eyes shifted to him. Logan’s were inquisitive, neutrally interested in what he expected would be the answer to his question. Patton’s were sympathetic, encouraging and ready to console whatever Virgil would admit to. Roman’s were the hardest to meet- he was suspicious. Virgil felt the weight of each man’s gaze. There was no going back now.

“Earlier today, a former friend came by. His name is Janus, and he wanted me to go back with him.” Hearing the name, Logan’s posture straightened and Patton’s eyes narrowed. 

“Janus… Pyton? The lawyer?” Logan asked first. Virgil nodded. “How do you know him?” Logan had only met the guy through legal problems- whenever the court needed an expert witness. He couldn’t imagine Virgil, who worked from home to accommodate his anxiety, meeting Janus, much less the two being friends. Janus was dramatic, and conniving- two things Virgil appeared to dislike, based on his reaction to Roman’s theatrics and his need to know everything that happened in the apartment. It just didn’t make sense.

“They met in middle school,” Patton answered. It had been a few years since he’d last seen Janus- and he wasn’t in a hurry to see him again. Even as a kid, he gave off a disconcerting vibe that Patton couldn’t ignore. He was creepy, and seemed to be a bad influence on his brother. If Janus had come to their apartment, it couldn’t be for a good reason. “Why did he want you to go back?” His voice was stern. He couldn’t help it- something about Janus made him put his guard up.

Virgil let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t ready for what was coming next, but there was no stopping it now. “He said that if I didn’t come with him, he’d tell you all… about what we used to do. You remember the Florida-based vigilante?”

Logan’s eyes widened, but he otherwise didn’t react. He wanted to keep the metaphorical lid on his emotions, lest he lash out like he did with Roman. Patton furrowed his brow, not understanding what Virgil was implying. He was still preoccupied with Janus coming to the apartment physically, and threatening his brother. Roman didn’t appear to react, which was perhaps the most terrifying response of all.

“Paranoia,” Roman finally stated. It was what the vigilante called themself. The idea was that nothing was safe from them. Virgil closed his eyes, squeezing out whatever reaction that name had dredged up. He wasn’t proud of what he’d have to say next.

“Right. It was actually three people- Remus, Janus, and me. It started as just harassing people online, but it spiraled until we were ruining people’s lives.” He was trying his best to be objective- to be removed from any emotions. If he stuck to just the facts, then he could ignore the loathing that was tearing him apart. Virgil felt a warm hand on his shoulder. It was Patton’s. He looked up just in time to be faced with the question he dreaded most.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

There were a lot of reasons. Because it never came up in conversation. Because it’s a weird thing to bring up. Because it was easier to ignore. Because he wasn’t doing it anymore. Because it’s illegal. Because he hated himself. Because it was the reason he moved. Because he was running from it. Because he didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Because the thought of telling others still kept him up at night. Because he couldn’t bear the looks he would get- was getting right now. Because the longer he didn’t mention it, the harder it was to bring up. Because he didn’t want to lose his friends. Because he didn’t want to ruin the relationship he was rebuilding with his brother. Because he was ashamed.

Patton’s hand squeezed Virgil’s shoulder lightly. “I’m not angry with you,” he reassured. The voice in Virgil’s head screamed that he was lying, that he had every right to be livid, that he ought to be pissed. Patton was always better at articulating his feelings, and saying what Virgil needed to hear, but right now his support was damaging. It was a reminder of what was at stake- of the illusion Virgil wanted to be, but could never fulfill. Whatever Patton thought of his brother was too optimistic, and the heartbreaking reality would hit any moment now. Virgil didn’t want to be there when it all came crashing down, but Patton’s hand glued him in place.

“You should be,” Virgil started. He wasn’t about what he was saying, the words just came to him. “I lied to you all. I thought I could just hide from all the shitty things I’ve done and it would be fine. But it’s not- it won’t. I’m putting you all in danger by being here. It would be better if I just left.”

Virgil expected Patton’s reaction. He was stunned, hand falling from his brother’s shoulder. He sat back in his chair, processing all of what Virgil had said. Roman remained still and silent. He seemed more like a statue, delicate and indifferent features carved into a monument to all of what Virgil was giving up. Logan had regained control of his emotions, and looked completely neutral. Roman once mentioned that he suspected Logan was an android, and Virgil was beginning to agree.

“Let’s not be hyperbolic,” Logan started, slowly. He hadn’t reassured anyone before, but he’d seen his fair share of emotionally distraught students. “You lied because you thought it would be better for everyone here- that’s what you meant about ‘protecting’ us? We’re hardly in any danger now. We’re not angry with you, we’re just… recontextualizing.” Patton nodded his head vigorously, a shy smile spreading across his face. Virgil glanced at Roman, who finally reacted. He wasn’t looking anywhere in particular. Hazy clouds appeared in his eyes as he stared into the middle distance, lost in thought.

“If we’re confessing things,” he started, still not looking at anyone. “I have something to add.” He rolled up his shirt’s sleeve, and upturned his palm. The scars were healing, now that he was resting most of the day, but they were still bright red. He lifted the sleeve of his other arm, revealing another patch of skin that was covered in a mosaic of slashes. He was silent, but the evidence of his disturbing “coping” mechanism spoke volumes.

Logan only glanced at the wounds. He had to avert his gaze- guilt crept up his back as he remembered their last fight, and Roman’s hasty retreat into his room. How long had he been mangling his own body- how much had Logan contributed to it? Patton looked on in horror, the shock of Virgil’s statements still settling in his mind. His mouth formed a few different shapes, but no sounds came out- the pain of seeing a close friend’s ugly secret stealing his breath. Virgil tried to moderate his reaction, but his involuntary gasp was loud. Memories of Remus’ voice whispering macabre sneers about Roman’s favorite color- red- echoed in his brain. Something unnamed possessed him- a frankenstein’s monster of fear, pain, sympathy, and worst of all- relief. The cool sensation washed over him all at once.

“Ro- Roman, I had no idea,” Patton finally croaked, mustering the courage to look away. “How recent-”

Roman cut him off, with a controlled voice. “Recent. I relapsed a few weeks after Emile left,” he was careful to not say ‘when Virgil came,’ because he didn’t want to place any blame on his friend. Virgil still seemed shaken from Janus’ visit, he didn’t need Roman adding to that. “When I took on a third job. Things got too much, and I couldn’t… It was easier to just hide it, y’know? It wasn’t until I passed out on the bus that I realized how bad I was doing. I’m doing better now, I think.” He added quickly, seeing the worry still painted across his friend’s faces. He rolled his sleeves back up, looking into Virgil’s eyes briefly. He just wanted, no, needed, to see Virgil’s reaction. It was pale and blank.

Logan cleared his throat, breaking the weary silence that had settled over the four. “While I don’t have anything nearly as dire as Roman’s… revelation, or as interesting as Virgil’s, I do have something to say. For the past month, I’ve been working with the local forensics team at the police station as a chemistry consultant. I’m not allowed to reveal any specifics about the case, but… it’s brought some unwanted attention. Last night, I received a troubling letter.” He placed a letter on the table. It had been opened, but placed back inside a cream-colored envelope. Logan removed it from the strangely marked casing, and let his roommates read.

“I know you are working on the Oranssi case. Quit now, or I will make you.” 

Logan’s face remained impassive, but he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “I had tried to keep this to myself, but you all deserve to know. I don’t want to worry any of you.”

“You very much did not succeed,” Roman retorted. His voice was sharp, but his face was apprehensive. How could a vague death threat, addressed to their apartment, not be worrying? In strange contrast, Patton’s face was resolute. He’d faced bullies before. 

“We’ll get through this, together.” He said, standing up. He made his way around the table, to stand by Logan. He hugged his boyfriend tight, whispering something in Logan’s ear. It brought a small smile to his face.   
\--

The rest of the night was unusual, almost dreamlike. The weight of everyone’s confessions settled slowly, and the concept of reality drained from the rooms. When the sun set, only Thomas seemed to notice. Patton had started to make dinner, but stopped several times. Virgil had tried to go back to work, but found himself incapable. Roman had nothing to do, and walked around anxiously. Logan checked his phone hazily, desperate for a distraction. Time passed in fits and bursts. When light stopped pouring in from windows, it radiated from buzzing light bulbs. Eventually, each roommate called it quits, giving up on the idea of having a regular night. Logan was first to retire, citing the time. Virgil followed, making some excuse about medication. Patton eventually threw in the towel, faking a yawn. Roman crawled into bed as quietly as possible, fully aware that Virgil wasn’t asleep. After their night of confessions, their white lies appeared as gaudy as masquerade masks.

No one could sleep. Thomas paced from room to room, checking on his restless owners every few minutes. Virgil tried to remain as still as possible, hoping sleep would claim his eager body. Roman tossed and turned, eternally uncomfortable. Logan counted his breaths, waiting for the repetition to lull him to sleep. Patton tried to count sheep, imagining an empty pasture.  
\--

He wasn’t sure what time it was. Virgil was sure that he wouldn’t sleep tonight. He was familiar with insomnia, and despite his medication’s best efforts, he still had wakeful nights. Nights when the moon was as bright as her yellow counterpart. Nights when every sound was too loud. Nights when his body insisted that it was morning. 

He left his bedroom, accepting his sleepless fate. Coming into the kitchen, he met Logan, quietly eating something. The two stared, startled but not surprised by the other’s presence. Virgil turned, and assumed a spot at the table. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he could at least be productive. He opened his laptop, the light filling the apartment. It illuminated Roman’s sleek silhouette, stalking into the common area as quietly as possible. He couldn’t sleep either, apparently, and stopped short when he saw two other roommates suffering the same. 

“What time is it?” he whispered, still frozen.

“Two AM,” Patton yawned. He was tired, but not enough so to actually sleep. He waved at Virgil, and walked to where Logan was standing. Roman flipped on the lights, and sighed. It appeared no one could sleep, tonight.

“What do you guys want to do?” Roman asked. He couldn’t remember the last time they all hung out in a fun way. This afternoon’s unpleasantness still lingered, in the air, in the lights, in the roommates, and he was sick of it. Virgil shrugged, and offered the perfect suggestion.

“Want to watch a movie?”  
\--

They’d barely started Frozen when Roman interrupted it.

“Patton, I don’t think you said anything today.” Patton laughed.

“I suggested that we watch Frozen!”

Roman’s response was dry. “You know what I mean. You didn’t say anything today, when everyone else admitted something.” Patton was silent for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. He did have something to admit, but he really didn’t want to.

“Well, I don’t have anything all that… heavy,” he lied, snuggling into Logan’s shoulder. Virgil recognised Patton’s cadence, however.

“You don’t have any secrets you’d like to get off your chest?” he teased. He knew Patton was hiding something, and a quick glance at Roman confirmed that he was right. Patton waved a hand in the air, trying to dismiss his statement.

“I mean, I’ve been feeling a little sad lately, but it’s nothing.” Each roommate looked at Patton, trying to parse out what he meant. Patton was so communicative, the idea that he’d been hiding his own feelings seemed preposterous. Patton tried to laugh off the tension in the room, but it was futile.

“Really, guys. It’s nothing!” He tried again. He was desperate for something to take the attention off of him.

“You said we’d get through this together,” Roman responded. “That means all of us. We’re all going to get through this. Together.” He moved closer to Patton, wrapping his arms in a hug that also extended to Logan. Patton smiled to himself, feeling something settle in his stomach- contentment. He could stay like this forever. 

Roman stood up, a glint in his eye. It was the same look Remus had when he had an idea, but softer. He was hopeful, not threatening. “I have an idea!” he sang, leaping to the kitchen. “Let’s have a party!”  
\--

Brownies were in the oven, filling the apartment with the sweet scent of chocolate. Frozen still played from someone’s laptop, the music inspiring the boys to dance with each other. Roman ditched his usual partner- Thomas was somehow asleep- and instead twirled with Virgil, deftly dodging any obstacle in their way. He really was a good dancer, hips swinging in time with every beat as if he didn’t have to think about it. He seemed lost in the moment, enjoying himself in a way that Virgil hadn’t seen before. Bangs fell across his face, messily dividing it up into beautiful fragments. His lips curled in a light smile, as gentle as the rest of his features. He left his dance partner in awe, star struck in the middle of the apartment. 

The song was winding down to an end. Roman came out of his haze, drifting back to reality the way a feather falls to the ground, carried by a light breeze. He locked eyes with Virgil, a thousand emotions crossing his face in a single moment. They were the only ones in the room, which was still spinning. Roman moved towards the couch, aware Virgil was following. They were inches apart. Roman was breathless, drinking in Virgil’s angular features with a clarity he’d been too distracted earlier to notice. Virgil’s breath was hot on Roman’s cheeks. His lips were parted.

A question was stuck in Roman’s throat. He was breathing lightly, aware of how intensely his heart beat. It slipped out, before his anxiety could catch it. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Confidently, Virgil closed the distance between the two, answering Roman’s question in the best way. His lips were soft, just as Virgil imagined they were. A hint of mint was on his tongue. It was a slow kiss, at first, the ecstasy of the moment pushing out all other thoughts. Hungrily, Virgil pressed forward, enjoying the smooth sensation of Roman’s skin on his. It was everything he’d imagined, but so much more. Roman was eager, too, moaning softly and wrapping his arms around Virgil’s back. Virgil placed his hands on Roman’s cheeks, letting his body heat tingle his cold fingers. 

“YOU’RE DATING MY BROTHER!?”

Patton’s question startled both men, causing the kiss to end abruptly. Roman nearly screamed and Virgil backed away, suddenly aware that he was in an apartment that he shared. Even Thomas was looking at him. Virgil felt an intense heat rise to his cheeks, the red blush impossible to hide. He glanced at Roman, eyes wild. Neither knew what to say.

“Yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s here! Accepting Anxiety part two! Also, this marks the end of the slow burn (i guess medium burn if we’re 58% through when they start dating?).
> 
> Briezzy55 told me to go to bed but jokes on them it's 3 AM, I've been writing for the past three hours, and I refuse to do anything healthy
> 
> In all honesty, I do feel bad about this. It's the weekend, so I'm not as prompt about posting as I usually am (I say, conveniently ignoring that I have no schedule and post whenever the feeling takes me). I got a nasty sun burn that makes me really tired all the time (apparently the sun, depression, and quarantine all make me tired) and it's kinda hard to write when my shoulder blades are on fire.


	16. Ace Attorney, Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus does some research into the Oranssi case, despite it being suspended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a plot-heavy chapter, because I am apparently incapable of writing something without injecting a dramatic side plot that is completely unrelated to the reason I started writing in the first place. :,)
> 
> To clarify some things: the police show up in this chapter, and a few others. I am not endorsing their corrupt system or hateful ways.
> 
> This chapter is pretty short, compared to the others. I don't know how long ch 18 will be (I'll explain why later) but I'll try to get another one soon. Today? Tomorrow? Who knows!

The police were not helpful, as usual. The Oranssi case was suspended, according to legal sources, but still under investigation. Janus continued to work on the case, despite the threats. They didn’t seem to be credible, and the details were too intriguing to ignore. He technically didn’t work on Sundays (separation of church and state wasn’t very strong in Florida), but buried himself in research nonetheless. 

First order of business- checking the new details, now that the police reports were finalized. A tentative file had been put together about Oranssi, with sparse and unrelated details. Janus wondered when they started making it- before or after Oranssi escaped custody? There didn’t appear to be much a lawyer could work with in the file, but he read every word hungrily. He didn’t appear to have an arrest record, but did have a few traffic violations. The medical history was mostly average, save for an eye infection that doctors couldn’t diagnose. He was taking steroids as a general treatment, and they reflected hopeful results. His family history also looked average, two parents who lived out of state. He was unemployed at the moment of his arrest, but was a freelance landscaping contractor, having graduated from technical school several years earlier. His residence was unlisted, but he did pay taxes.

The mundanity of the case made it all the more intriguing.

Janus began researching, looking into any detail he could. He started with the arrest record. The report seemed to be accurate- three minor traffic violations that he’d gotten a ticket for, but nothing serious. Turing without a signal, aggressive tailgating, driving over the speed limit, and other common infractions. His driver's license hadn’t been revoked, and his car insurance was paid on time, every month. He was cited in an altercation that authorities were involved in, but didn’t get arrested. The police had been called after repeated noise complaints, but that seemed to be the beginning and end of the matter.

Janus moved on to his history. There had to be a trail of something, warnings that a child psychologist could pick up on, or reviews from clients that would shed some light. Again, there was nothing. His lack of an arrest record meant no one had testified to his character before. He’d been on the highschool football team- probably where he got his back injury- but otherwise nothing interesting. Even client reviews for his business were spotless. They all described the same scenario- they hire a man for a job, and he does it without problem. Janus scrolled through the ratings, feeling his own eyes glaze over. They all appeared the same.

Except for one. It looked similar to the others. Too similar. Whole sentences were copied from other reviews, and the comment had been edited several times within a few days of posting it. Janus wrote down the information of the client. He doubted this would help in court, but knowing what needed to be edited, more than once, could provide a better image of what Ornassi looked like in a professional setting. 

Janus moved on to the last avenue: medical problems. Janus was familiar with doctors’ unfortunate inability to help suffering patients. His cane loomed in the doorway, a reminder of his shortcomings. The weather was getting hotter, and he wouldn’t need it as often. It wasn’t the same cane from highschool. He’d grown since then, and the old stick just wasn’t long enough. The new cane was black with yellow accents. Remus had suggested that he customize the cane, so that he didn’t hate it so much. The tactic hadn’t worked, but he did have fun painting it with Virgil. 

According to doctor reports, the eye condition was incurable. It had started when he was a child, but ignored as bad vision. It grew worse as he got older, but wasn’t an impediment until adulthood. Oranssi reported chronic pain, and temporary blindness. No doctor could agree on what was the problem, but prescribed a powerful steroid. “Woede.” The drug was still in an experimental phase, and the side effects were as numerous as they were random. Of course there were the expected ones- headaches, redness, swelling, irritability, dizziness, etc. A few strange symptoms jumped out further down the list- skin discoloration, wakefulness, weaker pain receptors, loss of feeling in limbs. The drug was powerful, and was covered in warnings against self medicating, over medicating, and other dangerous practices. It was injectable, ingestible, and inhalable. Oranssi prescription was for a modest amount, in a single pill, once a day.

Janus wrote a few notes, on a separate pad. He only needed the essential details- Oranssi started taking Woede several years ago, and it possibly had weird side effects. It was for chronic pain in his left eye. No arrest record- a few traffic violations. A back injury- from highschool football? Nothing unusual about upbringing. Average worker.

Janus crossed out his last note, and called the number of Oranssi’s strange client. The phone rang a few times, before going to voicemail.

“You have reached Violet Meyers. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“Hello Ms. Meyers! I’m interested in hiring a contractor, and I saw your review of… oh, who is he? Mr. Oranssi. I was hoping to talk to you, and get your opinion before I hire him, would that be ok? You can call this number back whenever you feel like it. I’m Earnest Peyton.”

He started researching what had been stolen from 24th Street.  
\--

His call was returned a few hours later. Violet seemed like a kind woman, but something in her voice was strange.

“Earnest? I just got your call, can you talk now?”

“Sure!”

“Ok. You called about Oranssi’s contracting. He’s a pretty good guy, gets the job done fast, but…” Her voice grew smaller as she trailed off. 

“But what?” Janus prompted, sounding as innocent and naive as he could.

“But I wouldn’t argue with him. We disagreed about some flowers, and he got really, really angry. Otherwise, he’s a great contractor.” Violet added the last part hastily. Janus was quiet for a moment.

“What was your original rating for him?” 

“Wh- what?”

“I’m looking at your review of his work and it’s a fine four stars, but it was edited recently? I was just wondering what that was about.” Janus pressed the phone into his shoulder, trying to muffle the sound. “Remus! Leave your sister alone-” he repositioned it again, so that the sound of his voice was loud and clear. “Sorry about that- young kids. I can’t tell if they’re playing or fighting sometimes.”

Violet was silent for a moment. Janus smiled. She had fallen for his lies hook, line and sinker. Whatever lie she had about the review had been washed away with guilt. She wouldn’t lie to someone with young, impressionable kids, would she?

“He asked me to change it. It was two stars, because of the argument, but then he came back. After the job was done, he kept coming back and asking me to change it. I didn’t want to at first, but he seemed to get madder and madder and when I changed it, he stopped coming by altogether.”

There it was, the smoking gun. Janus was silent for a moment, writing something down on his notepad. Violet had helped more than she could ever know. 

“Thank you, Ms. Meyers. I’ll take that into consideration.” He hung up the phone and checked his notes.

A man with a completely average life. He had two injuries, but took medicine for the more painful one. Because of the undiagnosable nature of the eye condition, he took steroids- which were known to exacerbate anger issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK a few things
> 
> For those who don't know- Ace Attorney! It's a really sweet, queerbaity game about lawyers who solve crimes. SvS's (the first one) thumbnail was based on the game, and Rythm Redux (the song from SvS Redux) had some WONDERFUL art that was reminiscent of the game. 
> 
> I don't know how the Japanese legal system works, but the game is NOT accurate to the United States Criminal Justice System. For one, lawyers are the people who investigate or solve the cases. They certainly can't pocket evidence without first submitting it to the court, and the three day cap on cases is completely made up. Janus is pulling some Phoenix Wright shenanigans because it's a nice way to get a named character in the action, it adds mystery to the story, and I wrote out the basic plot structure before I realized how inaccurate this was. Oops.
> 
> It's pride month! Please be careful out there- the police are extra angry bc of the BLM riots (our movement would be nowhere without black, trans-women, sex workers. Support BLM) and the coronavirus won't go easy on you just because you're LGBTQ. I also heard homophobes are gonna try doxxing people? Be careful.


	17. Song Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Roman try to figure out what their relationship is, and Virgil has an unrelated panic attack.
> 
> Trigger Warning: blood

Having a party at two in the morning was a great idea in the moment, but Virgil regretted it every moment after. His body felt energized that day, in the way a runner gets a burst of energy before they faint. He took his medicine on time, somehow, and started working. Roman was still sleeping, but looking better. His skin looked healthier, and he seemed to be more present. Most signs of exhaustion had completely disappeared, except for the dark circles under his eyes. Even those were lightening up.

Virgil tried to ignore his roommate. He had work to get done. He had enough projects to work on. Time crawled by, unnoticed, as he coded. Thomas jumped from surface to surface, chasing the sunlight to find the perfect place to nap. 

When Roman woke up, the sun was high in the sky. He was vaguely aware that he should’ve been up earlier, but he couldn’t think of a reason why. His job at the drugstore had fired him the day he collapsed, he’d been let go from his waiter job, and was on unofficial medical leave from the bartending job. His days were filled with nothing, as each of his roommates still conspired to keep him imprisoned in the apartment. Today it was just Virgil and him.

He longed to talk about what happened last night- this morning? They’d been dancing, and then when everything slowed down, they’d started to make out. Patton asked if they were dating, and Roman completely panicked. He said yes, without even asking Virgil. It was completely possible that Virigl didn’t want to, and he was overstepping his boundaries. 

“Hey, hot topic.” He greeted. Might as well start the day like usual. He didn’t want to scare Virgil again. Thomas looked up lazily.

“Aw, you think I’m hot.” Virgil’s response was… confusing. Of course Roman thought he was hot. They made out mere hours ago. Roman scoffed, and pet Thomas. It was his turn to take care of him.  
\--

Virgil took a break from programming when he got hungry. He’d call it lunch, except the time was closer to three PM. Roman was hanging around, moving between rooms whenever he got bored with whatever he was doing. Currently, he was checking his phone at the table in the common area. Virgil sat across from him, eating a snack in peaceful, if tense, silence. 

Roman broke the silence first. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

Virgil was unreadable. His face remained neutral, as if he hadn’t heard the question. He didn’t even look up. “Why would we?” Virgil retorted. His voice didn’t hint at whatever he was feeling, either. Roman wanted to scream. Virgil was somehow giving him the morning-after-cold-shoulder without a one night stand.

“Your brother asked if we’re dating, V for Vigilant.” He hadn’t used a nickname in a while, and it felt good to start flexing his creative muscles again.

“And?” Virgil still wasn’t looking at him. He had to be doing it on purpose now, to infuriate Roman. His voice was still dry and devoid of emotion, as if Roman’s questions were obvious.

“And? Are we?” Roman’s voice rose in pasion. He was leaning forward, desperate for an answer. His whole body was tense, waiting for any sign that his feelings were reciprocated. He hadn’t realized how strongly he felt about this until now. Virgil turned, finally looking at Roman. His expression was still neutral, but it wasn’t as pale as usual. A small blush, from anger or maybe embarrassment, had crept onto his cheeks, tinging his face with a rosier complexion. Roman tried to not be distracted by how cute his crush was. 

“Do you want to?” Virgil finally answered. He wasn’t as eager as Roman was to put a name on their relationship. He reached out and took Roman’s hand. The two were still for a moment, Virgil feeling the dull warmth Roman seemed to emanate, and Roman similarly enjoying the light tug on his hand. They agreed on the answer in silence.  
\--

That night was normal, comparatively. No one aired their personal baggage, and they ate dinner together. Logan was less stingy about answering questions about work. Patton seemed more open and answered questions more thoroughly. Now that he wasn’t hiding his feelings, he could complain about annoying customers while Roman loudly empathized. 

Roman asked a question that had been forming for the past two weeks- why was Patton pulling long hours at the bakery? Patton pressed a large, sympathetic but deeply tired smile onto his face. It was genuine, but only because of the long suffering pain it rested upon. His eyes were kind, if a little dimmer than usual. 

“Well, bud, you’ve been here healing all month, so I thought I’d volunteer for some extra hours to help pay rent.” Roman wanted to apologize, and the words were nearly out of his mouth when Virgil piped up.

“You’ve been taking on extra hours? I’ve taken on extra projects to cover the rent!” 

“I’ve also been working extra shifts, to compensate for Roman’s…. Recuperation.” Logan’s answer was as bewildered as he’d allow himself. The four roommates exchanged glances, stifling laughter. 

“Well, rest assured. You no longer need to overburden yourselves with work, I believe I’ve found a job.” Roman had been contacted earlier that week, and while he still hadn’t heard back from the online interviewers, he was pretty confident that he’d get the job. It was a singing gig, for a local lounge. He was uniquely qualified, having bartending experience and performance experience, and the hours fit with his other job perfectly.   
\--

In all honesty, the manager got back to Roman in record time, but waiting was still agonizing. He spent the few days pacing around the apartment, wandering from room to room. He would resume bartending next week, so there was nothing to occupy his mind in the moment. Thomas spent all day sleeping, and Virigl spent all day programming. The sheer mundanity would’ve killed Roman, except a threat like that would’ve been exciting and therefore didn’t happen.

Virgil’s week was similar, but a completely different experience. He coded whenever he was awake, which was not what Dr. Shell advised. It was hard to follow all of their advice, and he was sticking to going outside regularly and talking to people at least once a day. Sometimes, he even took breaks. 

Today was an exception in the worst way. A few nights ago he’d revealed his past to friends, and then stayed up way later than usual. The tiredness hadn’t affected him immediately, but he was absolutely feeling it now. His brain was sluggish in its thoughts, and not even the bitter jolt of coffee could break him from the brain numbing lethargy. He’d forgotten to take his meds a few nights ago, and the hormone imbalance was still throwing him off. On top of all that, he’d gotten awful sleep, woken up every few hours by a nightmare, or being too hot, or too cold, or uncomfortable, or…

It wasn’t worth thinking about. He had work to get done, and his thoughts were moving too slowly to multitask. The day crawled by, slower than normal. Occasionally he saw Roman, moving from room to room, Thomas following close behind, searching for something to do. He longed to join his boyfriend, but didn’t. He focused back on his laptop, which had slowly gone dark from inactivity. He had to stay alert right now.

He knew he had to take a break soon. While the exhaustion affected his work ethic negatively, he found it almost impossible to process words. He wasn’t aware of how long he’d been at it, but the sun had moved pretty far across the apartment, so that had to mean something. Perhaps a short break would do him some good. He closed the laptop, looking around the living space. It was just as he remembered it, cozy and warm. A sharp knocking sound drew his attention to the door. A letter slid through the rectangular slit, falling to the ground heavily. There must be something in it.

Virgil picked it up. Maybe going through the mail could be his distraction for the day. There weren’t many letters, it shouldn’t take too much time. And it was so different from coding, it would use a different part of his brain. This was exactly what Dr. Shell had instructed. 

The envelope was cold and warped slightly. Whatever was inside it was wet, somehow. Virgil opened the paper, curiously. It wasn’t raining, and the humidity hadn’t been strong enough to affect the other mail. He slid the letter out of the envelope. It was a single note, thin and short.

He read the contents. His heart began to palpitate. He tried to slow his breathing, but to no avail. His fingers shook, nearly ripping the supple paper between them. He wasn’t getting enough air, it was dizzying. The world around him was moving. It was too hot, too cramped. He felt panic set in, possessing his body like a vengeful spirit. It’d been so long since his last real panic attack, that he hadn’t recognised the symptoms until it was too late. He was hyperventilating. The walls were surrounding him, getting close and closer. His heart was shaking his ribs with how hard it beat. He could feel his throat begin to close- it was too late.

Roman found Virgil by the door. He’d been alerted by the sounds first, of quick, yet labored breathing. Initially he’d tried to ignore it, forgetting Virgil’s anxiety disorder. When he’d remembered, Virgil was already in the thick of it. His eyes were unfocused. Roman hesitated in place. He didn’t exactly know what to do in this situation. Patton had mentioned something, back when Virgil first moved in. He had to break Virgil’s system- force it out of fight or flight mode.

Roman ran towards the kitchen. He grabbed some ice, and bounded back towards his boyfriend. Trying to be as gentle but also as efficient as possible, he slid the cube into Virgil’s mouth. The results weren’t instantaneous, but they were promising. Virgil’s mouth puckered, as his body processed the cold sensation. He was still shaking, but his breathing had slowed down. Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil, trying to distract him from whatever had spurred on the reaction. 

Roman hadn’t realized he’d started singing until Virgil joined in. He was humming mostly, slowly rocking back and forth to the beat. The song was haunting, but slow enough to sway to- Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” When Virgil joined in, his voice was soft. The hoarseness of his humming revealed how raw his throat still was. It took time for the swelling to recede completely, but at least he could breathe.

Roman slowly leaned back. He was face to face with Virgil again. Roman checked his face for fear- anything to show that he still wasn’t ok. His skin was paler than usual, and the dark bags under his eyes were more pronounced, otherwise he seemed alright. Not in great condition, but he didn’t look like he was still panicking.

Virgil handed Roman the note, still in his hand. He’d only read the letter once, but it was enough to spur on an attack. Roman skimmed the note, trying to keep his face impassive. This was another one of the threats Logan mentioned earlier in the week. It demanded that Logan stop working on the Oranssi case, with unspecified consequences. Another sentence was added, something about the blood of enemies. The note was slightly wet. Roman reread the note, trying to figure out why. It didn’t say what the mystery liquid could be. He moved his fingers slightly, and realized.

The wet spot was tinged red, but the dry spots around it were a dull brown. It smelled vaguely metallic. This was blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman is the most relatable character in this purely because he literally makes out with a guy and still internally wonders if that guy likes him
> 
> Things are getting heated! I think next chapter is the creativitwins' backstory. It will probably be long. 
> 
> me: listens to the NSP cover of Don't Fear the Reaper  
> me: a s c e n d s


	18. Quirinus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Remus' backstory
> 
> Trigger Warnings: child neglect, self harm, family death, child abuse, alcohol mentions, underage drinking, sex mention, porn mention, body horror/gore, one (1) swear word (more in the author notes, and rape is mentioned in the author's notes too)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK Y’ALL HERE IT FUCKING IS
> 
> I haven’t been to catholic school nor have I been homeschooled (except for last semester- does Corona count?), but I know a few people who have.
> 
> Who thought the NSP Song on Remus’ playlist was gonna be No Reason Boner? I thought FOR SURE it would be Unicorn Wizard or If We Were Gay
> 
> I know a strange amount about delivering babies. What the fuck and I doing. Also what happens to remus, i’m pretty sure, falls under the legal definition of torture. Jaundice disease is a liver disease that makes the skin (and eyes? maybe) yellow
> 
> So I’ve been studying Ancient Rome for five years now, with a special focus on history, language, mythology, and That Good Gay Shit. I was fucking ELATED when Thomas and Co. said they named Virgil after the verb in latin to be vigilant/awake (vigilo, vigilare, viligavi, vigilatus) and Publius Vergilius Maro (who wrote the Aeneid, MY FAVORITE EPIC POEM). When Roman’s shitty brother was named Remus, I screamed. And most recently, when Deceit revealed his name to be Janus, I lost my MARBLES.
> 
> This chapter will have a lot of ancient roman culture easter eggs, because I can’t help myself. I’ll try to explain them all in the end notes, but if I forget some feel free to ask about them in the comments.

Rhea Silvia:

The doctors assured her that this was completely normal. Her belly was bigger than most, but the physicians didn’t seem to be as worried as Silvia or Kingston were. The ultrasound results came back, and her heart almost melted. Twins. She was going to have twins- two beautiful boys.

She kept her smile all throughout the pregnancy, until the labor pains. Kingston, her husband, was quick to drive her to the doctor, and the painkillers there were mostly effective. She nearly broke Kingston’s hand, but when the day was over, she had two wonderful babies.

She named one first. He was four minutes younger, but already full of personality. He cried almost immediately, but calmed down when his father held him. One of the nurses, jokingly holding a hand over their ears, made a snide comment about his powerful lungs. He would probably grow up to be an opera singer. The other boy was more worrisome. He refused to cry, no matter how hard the doctors rubbed him. He was born with a devious smile, and a little hair. When doctors finally confirmed that he was alive, they were puzzled. He was certainly a miracle, too stubborn to die.

The boys grew up in a small, but sweet house. Silvia named Roman, and Kingston named Remus. Mornings were loud and high energy, but they wouldn’t have it any other way. The boys were bundles of excitement, learning to walk at an early age. Roman graduated to skipping, while Remus started running.

They were learning Spanish at home, but English in school. The only bilingual school in the area was a catholic one. Silvia sent them there for morning kindergarten all the way through second grade. They weren’t great with academics, but excelled in art. 

12 Birds:

A simple choir performance ended up being the event that changed their lives forever. The music teacher had talked with Silvia a few times before. She was quick to laud Roman for his enthusiasm and exemplary voice, and she did admire Remus’ passion for… getting the lyrics wrong while still singing in tune. The performance itself wasn’t anything special. They were graduating second grade, and sang a few hymns of thanks to the lord. The parents had assembled in the school gym, where morning mass was held. Each child was wearing mostly white, at the school’s request. Some mothers were filming, but Silvia sat alone. Kingston was busy with work, but she had made enough time to see her boys.

Roman and Remus stepped to the front of the group, and sang an entire song alone. Roman’s voice was booming, and Remus’ harmonies were impeccable. Silvia was struck with inspiration. That night she called a talent agency, and scheduled an audition for each boy. 

They were signed on almost immediately. A local show was in talks, something to teach children Spanish. It had to be exciting, with songs and fighting, to keep the attention of elementary schoolers. It also needed a young protagonist. Roman and Remus auditioned for the role, but only one boy was selected.

Remus didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t get the part. He wanted to hang with friends, and whoever got the part had to be homeschooled. Kingston spent late nights talking with his sons, trying to make sure they were both alright with what the future would hold. The show business was a tough place, but Roman seemed excited nonetheless. The unfairness of the casting hadn’t seemed to hurt Remus’ feelings. They were still close as brothers.

Metamorphoses: 

Remus still went to catholic school. He broke his arm a few days into third grade, and spent the rest of the month trying to collect as many signatures as possible. The cast gave him the benefit of the doubt, in all teachers’ minds. This was usually a mistake, but he didn’t cause too much property damage. Mostly, he’d just escape to the bathroom and draw on the walls. He was kicked out of choir, but that was inconsequential. He met a friend who didn’t live too far away. Virgil Diomedes was half a year younger, but held back due to awful anxiety. He didn’t say much around Remus, but smiled a lot. It was a soft, scared smile that only Remus could bring out.

Roman, on the other hand, grew up in a very different environment. He was homeschooled, and rarely met kids his own age. His days were consumed with memorizing scripts, and his weekends were filled with catching up with academics. The show, Swashbuckler!, was about a bilingual pirate who fought off other pirates with his sword and arsenal of basic Spanish vocabulary. Roman was placed in fencing classes, and learned the basic moves quickly. He could sing and fight at the same time, which greatly cut down the amount of time he had to spend at the studios. Regardless, he still spent long hours at work, and rarely came home on weekdays. Remus often came home to a vacant place. His father was at work, his friends had to study (Virgil was a slow learner) and his mother and brother were on the other side of town.

The trouble started around third grade, too. Remus had snuck into the car, skipping school that day and going to the Swashbuckler! Set. He fell asleep in the car the previous night, and no one had noticed him still there in the morning. He wandered the lot, careful to remain hidden. He didn’t want to get confused for Roman and then found out. He wasn’t sure how much trouble he’d be in for missing school, but he was sure he didn’t want to find out. 

He spent a few hours alone, aimless. He’d tried on every costume that his grubby little fingers could snatch, he’d stolen from all the food trays (only one person found him, but she promised to tell no one), and was kicking a rock down the road when security spotted him. He didn’t put up much of a fight (one bite should not have counted- he warned them) and was roughly “escorted” back to his mother. Silvia had been angry, but didn’t show it. She wasn’t one to explode when company was around. Remus spent the rest of the day in the car, with the windows cracked. After scavenging for a few minutes, he found a crushed granola bar. When his mother came back, the sun had already set. He didn’t know how long he’d been imprisoned, but it felt like eternity. Roman looked exhausted, and remained quiet the whole car ride back. Remus tried to strike up conversation, sensing the tension in the car, but his brother refused. 

The night didn’t end when they came home, like Remus had hoped it would. Silvia proceeded to yell at him for about an hour (if the clock was accurate). She finished the speech with an ominous promise- that there would be more consequences- before going to bed. Remus also retired to his room, wondering how he’d tell Virgil what happened. Roman was already asleep. The next morning was the beginning of a nightmare that would torture Remus for the next five years. 

True to Silvia’s word, there were more consequences. Remus didn’t remember waking up, but he did remember the march. His mother led him to a room that was mostly empty. The door had a simple lock, and the light was on the outside wall. A large hand was on his back, making sure he didn’t try to run away. With a quick push, Remus was shoved in the room. He felt the door close, heard the lock click. He was alone, in the dark.

He did was most children under ten do when faced with an immense problem- he screamed. Remus wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it, but his throat hurt. He stumbled for the lock, feeling the cool metal knob in his small hands. He jiggled it vigorously, desperate to escape. It was useless. He still screeched, ignoring how the sound tore at his esophagus. It burned and ached, but he didn’t care. He pulled on the door with all his strength, but the lock held. 

At some point he woke up. He was still in the fucking room, but his eyes were dry, and his throat stung. He must’ve cried himself to sleep. A small voice in the back of his head hoped Roman wouldn’t see him like this. He tried to call out, unsure of what the time was. His father was probably home right- what day was it?  
His stomach grumbled defiantly. It was louder than his voice, which he’d lost earlier that day. He started smacking the walls, trying to make as much noise as possible. Someone would hear him, they had to....

His whole body shook. He hadn’t eaten all day, and the hunger was beyond insufferable. A throbbing headache threatened to crack his skull open, exposing the cavity where his brain would’ve been- if he had one. If he hadn’t been stupid and snuck onto set yesterday. If he tried harder in school and studied with Virgil. If he’d been better, and gotten the part Roman had.

When the door opened, Remus had drifted off. He wasn’t asleep, but he was delirious. His mother slowly fed him water, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Remus wasn’t sure how he’d gotten in that room, the memory was hazy. He tried to tell her about the day, but his voice was squeaky and unreliable. 

Anchises:

Kingston’s death was hard on the family. He passed away in his sleep. Doctors assured the Prince family that it was a stroke, no one could’ve predicted it. It had also been painless. The details didn’t really matter, but Remus was fascinated with them. Roman was the complete opposite, seemingly shutting down. He tried to avoid all things related to his dad, and threw himself into his work. His grades started to even out, and he memorized lines in record speed. Conversely, this is when Remus “lost his mind.” Those were Silvia’s words, of course. Remus was perfectly sane- he just got in trouble a lot more. Most of it was his fault, but sometimes he was put in time out for no reason.

And time out was torture. Remus had been taken to The Room a few times, but after his father died? Things got so much worse. Silvia would never punish him in public. Instead, he would be marched to that accursed cave, and locked away. The days were long there. It was a cold place, made all the more inhospitable by the void which swallowed the walls and threatened to swallow Remus, too. He screamed his throat raw, hit the walls until his hands went numb, and pulled on the door until it was permanently bent. It still locked him in. The walls were only there if Remus touched them. Abyssal darkness stretched forever, making the walls, floor, ceiling, everything around them disappear. He was floating alone, in a cruel space.

He wasn’t sure when, but he stopped screaming in there. No one came to help him- there was no point. He still hit the walls, sometimes just to reassure himself that they were still there. He had to say sane, he had to stay in the room. He feared falling into the void more than anything else. He scratched at the walls when his palms grew numb. The pain was searing, and his hands were disgusting to look at, but he scratched nonetheless. He felt nails frature and break under the pressure. His fingers were bleeding, but he didn’t care. The blood was warm, a sharp contrast to the frigid darkness that surrounded him.

In middle school, he had a great idea. He came home to an empty house, as usual. Remus hadn’t hit a growth spurt yet. The late puberty he and Roman both suffered from was probably the reason Roman still had a job- the longer he stayed short, the longer he could pass as a child. Remus climbed the cabinets, using a chair to compensate for height. On the top shelf was a bottle Silvia had long forgotten about. Vodka. Remus gripped the bottle neck fiercely, placing it in the room with a delicacy and gentleness he usually saved for Virgil.

The next time he was sent to The Room, he had something to do. He wasn’t at risk of going insane anymore, the boredom which poked holes in his lucidity now had an activity to occupy it. Remus didn’t have a cup in there- he couldn’t steal too much, or Silvia would catch on. He drank straight from the bottle, grimacing at the taste. The joy of alcohol was not in the rancid flavor- it was the effects. Remus wasn’t a lightweight, he was underage. He felt the buzz almost instantly. He still scratched at the walls, it was a compulsive muscle memory at this point, but his fingers wobbled. They were longer than he remembered. His time there was shorter than usual. Silvia didn’t check on him, she just unlocked the door. She did this ever since Kingston died. Remus wasn’t worth the effort of opening the door anymore- she had to make sure Roman was still accelling at school. 

Carthago Delenda Est

Roman’s life nearly ended when the show was canceled. What can you do- the protagonist had hit puberty, and no amount of medication could stop it any more. He still had a great singing voice, but that was all. His mother was more of an agent, another adult who told him what to do, than a nurturing figure. She was always in his life, in some way or another. He tried one day at public school with Remus, but when his brother had tried to kill him at recess, he went back to homeschool (and Remus went back to The Room). Roman moved through the days blearily. He was bored all the time, even while doing something. He was unfocused, and his grades began to fall. That was the first, and last, time he was sent to The Room. It smelled vaguely of alcohol- something strong and acidic. The walls were warped, with uneven scratch marks carved into them. He wasn’t in there long, but remained quiet. He tried to count the time, but only visions of Remus came to him. Remus alone, in this very room, suffering. Remus screaming, banging on the walls. Roman had tried to help him, once, but was stopped and yelled at. He sank into a spot on the floor that slightly dipped- Remus sat here, too.

When Roman was released, he quickly rubbed away tears. He would not go there again. 

His grades soared, after that. All he had left was studying, and performing. He still had gigs, booked by his mother. They were less frequent, but that just gave him more time to stuff into learning. He had to be better than Remus, he had to achieve more, he had to be better than Remus, he had to surpass expectations, he had to be better than Remus, he had to graduate early, he had to be better than Remus, he had to fill his time with productive activities, he had to be better than Remus, he had to cope, he had to be better than Remus, he couldn’t think about his dad, he had to be better than Remus, he had to cut, he had to be better than Remus, he had-

He’d never been more happy than graduation. He was 16, but already accepted into a few different schools. He’d texted his assigned roommate, who seemed nice. He couldn’t wait to leave, to explore the great big world, to abandon his mother.

Aeneid 4.901:

Remus had stitched together a friend group, in the same way Dr. Frankenstein stitched together a ticking time bomb of sentient anger in a powerful body. Dimitri, Virgil, and he were a strange group. Virgil was one year younger, but smart enough to keep up with the sophomore level classes. They studied together, after school. Remus had already helped Virgil run away from home (it was harder in a wheelchair, but Remus was stealthy enough to slip in and out of the house without his dope of a brother even noticing). Virgil was staying with Janus, or a homeless shelter (when Cornelius was supposed to come home). Things were good.

Except for one day. Remus was in Spanish 4, not paying attention. It was the only class he was actually passing, only because he already spoke the language. His brain was preoccupied. He owed some money to a friend, his supplier. He was thinking of different ways he could sweet talk his way out of the debt, or even push it off a few more days (until he could steal some from Roman) when something shocked him back to the present.

A kid had slammed their hand into their desk. Remus wasn’t sure why, but the noise had been enough. It was eerie and familiar. It was the sound his hands made, numbed from repeated use, against the wooden door of the Room. 

He wasn’t there. He was at school. He was moving, unaware of where he was going. Someone shot him a look, another student pulled out their phone, but it didn’t matter. He was gone. The green plastic of the bathroom stall was cold. Perfect. Muscle memory took over, as Remus dragged one ragged hand across the wall. He raised his other hand, clawing neat lines into the rough texture. He continued, breathing getting more intense as he focused. He wasn’t there. He was at school. He was fine.

Cold water splashed on his face. Remus slowly looked up, where the water came from. Janus stood in front of him, water bottle open and poised to splash again. Janus’ face was impassive, but Remus could read it. His eyebrow twitched, ever so slightly. Concern. Remus really didn’t want to talk about what had just happened, but Janus wasn’t going to let it go that easily. They stared in each other’s eyes, a silent conversation turning into a quiet shouting match. Remus was a stubborn son of a bitch, and eventually Janus backed down. The bell rang, and Janus walked with his friend to their next class. Remus dully heard the cane clack against the ground. He didn’t say anything.

Later that day, he and Virgil finally got the truth. They were sitting in the small yellow car (“Janice’s Jaundice”), the air conditioning rattling behind Janus’ story. He was explaining why he needed the wretched stick. Virgil reluctantly agreed to leave the matter alone, since that was clearly what Janus wanted. Remus had other ideas. Thoughts of revenge churned in his head, folding in on each other until something malicious and vicious leaked out, the way organs leaked out of war casualties. 

His original idea had been something dull. It started with hurting Janus’ father back, probably in the hip. That spiraled into amputation- taking the leg and selling it. That didn’t seem painful enough. He turned the cane in his hands, contemplating the failures of the human body’s ability to heal. The nervous system was nothing short of magical, sending and receiving pain signals long after someone was aware they were in danger. He wanted to trigger them all, to light Janus’ father’s spine on fire. 

That led to the idea of arson. Virgil didn’t agree with setting the whole place on fire, but he did contribute to the macabre conversation. He mentioned a time his brother had been cooking and combined a few spices into something almost deadly. The poor idiot was barely able to move, accidentally making a paralytic in his own kitchen. That was perfect.

Nicomedes:

Roman absolutely loved college. His roommate- Patton- was incredibly kind, and gay. Roman fit into a special category of kids who don’t have to come out. His passion for singing and spiffy appearance made most people question his heterosexuality. However, he’d never had a boyfriend, as a homeschooled prodigy. College would be different, he vowed.

Sure enough, there was someone in his theater classes who caught his eye. Jeremy Heere went by “Remy,” and had an intoxicating laugh. Roman wasn’t smitten, but his days were instantly improved by hanging out with Remy. They had a similar sleep schedule- nonexistent- and tentatively went on several dates.

Roman’s first time was nerve racking, but fun. Remy was gentle and always waited for consent. The morning after was a nice and slow day. Roman was up and scavenging for food, while Remy slept until noon. They spent the evening laughing together and ignoring the test they had initially met to study for.

Roman’s grades were alright in school. They weren’t as high as when his mother was breathing down his back, the Room’s door looming behind him. He had taken Remus’ dagger up to the dorm, but hid it in a dorm. Students weren’t allowed to have knives on the property unless they were locked up in the campus armory. Sometimes, when only his lamp illuminated the dorm with a dull and blunt light, he would take out the dagger and just look at it. He hadn’t cut up at school, and certainly didn't’ intend to. Holding the jade and ebony hilt was soothing, though. He could squeeze it as hard as he liked, but the stones kept their shape. 

He remembered when he first took it. Remus had talked about running away a few times, but Roman never thought he’d actually do it. They were brothers- Remus wouldn’t abandon him to deal with Silvia alone. Sure, they didn’t talk as often as they used to, and whenever they did they fought, but there was always something there. They’d make up in the dead of night, when not even the storm clouds outside could hear. Whispered apologies were second nature to Roman.

When Remus had left, there was no build up. It was his freshman year, Roman’s senior year, and the bed was empty. Remus’ whole half of the room was bare, stripped of all his possessions. All, but one. A single dagger, with a green and black handle. Roman had pricked his finger on the tip, stupidly believing it could be dull. He used that dagger to cut ever since.

Alea Iacta Est:

Remus didn’t go to college. He’d found some work as a high schooler, after moving in with Janus and Virgil. The others went to college, but he didn’t need to. Gay porn wasn’t a new business, but it was getting more and more popular. When Remus finally did hit puberty, it was quick and uncaring. He was still lanky, mostly limbs, but muscles had wrapped around him like a sexy octopus. He styled his facial hair into a neat moustache, which had caught on like a wild fire with camera crews. Roman had been a child actor, but now Remus was the star of completely different films.

He had some experience, too. Highschool had been a weird time, and when he and Janus hooked up, it was loveless. Remus didn’t put a label on his sexuality, work was work, but he did lean towards men more. Janus confessed that he felt nothing but platonic love for Remus, and the answer was as freeing as it was dry. Remus wasn’t great with romance, and he didn’t want to admit that he found Janus sexy, but not cute. They kept the interaction from Virgil.

Virgil finished his degree before Janus did, but they still lived together. Virge took on freelance work, as his social anxiety hindered him from going outside on most days. Remus didn’t mind- it was probably best that someone was home. His job was inconstant, but the shooting days were long and a single project could take months to get done. When Janus graduated from law school, he immediately took up an internship with the largest law firm in the state. His income steadily grew, as he negotiated more and more plea bargains. 

It was a hot December night when Remus accidentally brought up the idea. He’d finished a batman parody, and the concept of vigilante justice was still on his mind. Janus was dejected that day, the payout from a corrupt banker not nearly enough to ease his conscience. Virgil picked up on the mood, subconsciously, fidgeting nervously with his hoodie. Remus was spouting off ideas, trying to lift his friends spirits the only way he knew how, when Janus held up a hand.

“Say that again,” he commanded. Remus paused, trying to remember what he’d said. The thoughts didn’t go through his head this late at night.

“Whittle someone’s bones into weapons?” Janus shook his head. Remus tried again. “Kill the guy who paid you?” That was the right answer. Janus’ eyes lit up, a fire igniting at the back of his mind. Virgil moved closer, intrigued by whatever his roommates were planning. He wasn’t down with murder, but they could work on that.

When Janus spoke, his voice was smooth. He’d already calculated the risk, and decided it was worth it. “I still have his personal files… let’s bring this fucker to justice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter Eggs:   
> Quirinus- this is the name of King Romulus, once he ascends to godhood. I also read a version where Romulus gets jumped in the woods and stabbed to death. It's not a popular version of the story, but it's my favorite. That's what you get when you organize the R*pe of the Sabines, dipshit.
> 
> Rhea Siliva is the cannon mother of Romulus and Remus. 
> 
> The bird story is a tale of conflicting augury. So basically, Remus saw 6 birds earlier in the day. He goes to a priest, who says that this means the gods are smiling on his city. However, Romulus sees more birds, and they're bigger, but they showed up later in the day. He goes to a priest, who says the gods are smiling on his city. Swaglexander the great on tumblr has a wonderful retelling of the story and subsequent shovel murder of Remus.
> 
> Ovid’s metamorphoses is a collection of myths, and holy shit is it “fun” to translate. It's his take on Epic Poetry, and I do like some of the stories (although most of them are about r*pe and that's fucked up). 
> 
> Diomedes is a cool motherfucker. Seriously, he's the only person in greek and roman mythology who hurts TWO gods (Aphrodite and Ares). He's a Greek solder in the Trojan War, nearly kills Aeneas (rip), and is the only man to keep his cool for the whole war. I love him. Also his cameo in the Aeneid (and Lavinia) is really nice.
> 
> Anchises was Aeneas’ father. He dies in book 5, I think (maybe book 4 or 6). 
> 
> Carthago Delenda Est. Cicero ended most of his speeches, regardless of content, with this phrase. It means Carthage Must Fall. He really wanted the Third Punic War, and eventually got it.
> 
> “Rise some avenger of our Libyan Blood” Aeneid, 4.901. OH MY GOD THIS PART. So fun fact, I can't read the fourth book of the Aeneid without crying my eyes out because I love Dido so goddamn much. She deserved better. This line comes from her final speech, where she curses Aeneas, his blood line, his greatest achievement, and promises that their countries will forever be at war. Your fave could never. The avenger is Hannibal, the guy who nearly sacked Rome in the Second Punic War. He is one of the greatest war generals ever, and his tactics are still studied in the military.
> 
> Nicomedes. So Romans had a different concept of sexuality than modern Americans do (and people in other countries, but I haven't studied them as much). Who you were having sex with was not as important was what position you took. Basically, Romans hated bottoms. To allow yourself to be penetrated was unmanly, and could ruin lives. I am not making this up. I wrote a ten page paper about this. Anyways, the Greek King Nicomedes was a friend of Julius Caesar's, and it's widely rumored that they were sexually intimate.
> 
> Alea Iacta Est. Another Julius Caesar fact! So, my boy JC makes a name for himself by conquering all of transalpine Gaul in seven years (his memoir was hell to translate, but fun to read). However, he's no longer in Rome, and wants to get his army back there. The Senate is Not Down with that, since they've already had two dictators march armies across the Rubicon River and plunge the republic into civil war (Marius and Sulla). Julius doesn't care, and responds to a frantic letter from the senators with "alea iacta est" which translates to "the die is cast." it's the most metal thing I've ever translated and a large part of why Julius Caesar is one of my favorite historical figures, ever. he was so cool!
> 
> I wanted to get my beloved Bee Simile in here, but it wasn't meant to bee. Farewell, apes. I shall never forget you, your straightforward translation, or the 4 you earned me on the AP Latin test.


	19. Ace Attorney, Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus figures more things out
> 
> Trigger warnings: self medication mention, crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real short chapter.
> 
> Chapter 19 was really short and I injected it into chapter 17. This is technically ch 20/26, but I’m going to change the chap total to be 25. To be fair, math was never my strong suit.
> 
> You can see my customer service experience in the first phone call, lol.

Janus sighed. Another week had gone by, but nothing interesting happened. He was faced with another blank weekend. Remus was out all day, filming, so the apartment was empty. They were beginning to move on. Virgil’s absence didn’t throb anymore- it barely even hurt. He wouldn’t admit it verbally, but Janus was proud of him. Virgil had moved on to the next part of his life, and seemed to be doing better. 

Janus checked his emails. An investigator had gotten back to him about the powder on the most recent threat- it was dibasic calcium phosphate, which was used as a dietary supplement. The thin, white powder was sparse and only on one corner of the note- clearly it getting on the letter was an accident. Good, Janus’ entire job depended on accidents. Testimonies accidentally revealing too much information, witnesses accidentally mentioning something they really should’ve kept to themselves, public defenders accidentally misspeaking in their opening statement. No matter how small, this mistake was a clue.

Janus continued his research into what had been stolen from the shops on 24th Street. The places that had been hit were all artisanal cafes or other tiny restaurants. They reported what had been stolen, but the police blacked it out. Apparently, that was need to know only, and the lawyers prosecuting the case didn’t count. He marked that down in his notes- what was the point of hiding this information?

He continued researching, moving onto Oranssi’s doctors. They hadn’t provided any statements, but could probably shed some light on the case. He didn’t want the defender to get to them first. He listened to the phone ring, while thinking about how he’d get around doctor-patient confidentiality. There were a few… deceitful ways he’d tried for other cases, but if used them too often, someone would catch on. He had to be circuitous. 

“If this is a medical emergency, please hang up and call 911. Thank you for calling Rubins and Co. Offices, where your health is our first concern. My name is Remy, how can I help you?” The secretary sounded tired. He’d probably worked the night shift, which would end soon.

“Hello, Remy. I’m calling to talk to a Dr. Booker?”

“I’ll have to place you on hold,” Janus heard the phone click, and monotone music begin to play. He waited patiently, mentally rehearsing his new persona. The doctor would no doubt ask who he was- that wouldn’t be too difficult to get around. Dr. Diomedes- sorry Virgil- would suffice. The hold music looped several times. It was common knowledge, and old wives’s tale, that doctors like to make their patients wait. Janus had experienced it firsthand, but it was aggravating every time.

“This is Dr. Booker.” The doctor’s voice was sharp. He sounded angry, as if he was in a hurry and didn’t have the time for a call. Perfect- more stress on Dr. Booker’s side would make him easier to interrogate.

“Booker! Hello, I’m Doctor Diomedes. I wanted to get a second opinion on something, do you have a moment?” Janus talked slower on purpose. He sounded obliviously happy.

“I’m a little busy at the moment-” Booker started, but Janus interrupted him. The happy persona had made his prey softer.

“Oh this won’t take a minute! I was just talking with a patient about some treatment options- a steroid called ‘Woede’? I’ve never heard of it, and when I asked around, I heard that you’d worked with it before?”

Booker was silent for a moment, and the background ambience of the clinic filled the phone. A few rustling papers, the rushed footfalls of busy nurses, and indistinct talking all mixed together, drowning out the light breathing from the doctor.

“I can’t tell you too much, because of… you know.” He meant doctor-patient confidentiality. Janus would’ve nodded, if the conversation wasn’t over the phone. No need to waste the effort where it wouldn’t be appreciated. “Honestly, I thought that the FDA stopped it. It was alright, my patient reported only minor side effects, and it really did help them. But the pharmacy stopped supplying it- apparently it was hurting the other test patients, so the whole thing got pulled. I haven’t seen it in months.”

“Hm. Interesting. Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.” Janus hung up before Booker could say anything else.

There was another wrinkle in the case. What should’ve been a straightforward issue about petty theft now included the police redacting information from official reports, conflicting witness testimony, a man who appeared to be too average to matter, the main suspect being MIA, intimidation charges, and a steroid that had been taken off the shelves without affecting him.

Janus felt the tension building in his jaw. This case was a rubiks cube that changed its colors, just to fool him. Solving it was becoming an exercise in determination, deductive reasoning, and spite. He cracked his neck, and drank some water. If he was going to figure this out, and he was, he would have to be in the right headspace.

Janus grabbed a new notepad, and started from the beginning. The first email he’d received about the Oranssi case. It contained the charges, and a few details about the witnesses. He circled the main charges, and wrote down the key features of the conflicting testimonies-

CHARGES: THEFT, ASSAULT/BATTERY, INTIMIDATION  
Plea: innocent  
State W “O in bed all day”  
W 1. “back injury”  
W 2. “Inhuman strength”

He added a few details from the other investigations. The back injury could be connected back to highschool football. Whatever he’d been accused of stealing was redacted. He had no prior criminal record. 

Janus grabbed a second note sheet. He’d assembled one for Oranssi himself, but there was another key element to this case. Woede.

Steroid: Woede  
Discontinued by FDA- bad side effects  
Helped O’s eye

He looked at an older pad, with the side effects listed out. There were, of course, the normal ones, headaches and such, but some others jumped out at him. He wrote irritability next to side effects, and the assault/battery charge. He tentatively added wakefulness to the effects note. He wasn’t sure how much of an impact that had, but it was worth noting. Janus had spent enough days with Virgil to know that not sleeping seriously messes with someone’s head.

Time. Janus checked the emails again. The witnesses who’d agreed to testify (W 1 and W 2) had attested to the intimidation and assault charge about a month ago. Woede was recalled earlier than that, so Oranssi couldn’t have been on it when he committed the crimes. The theft charges happened around a week before the police report had been incompletely filed. He overturned one of the notes, and started writing on the blank back.

Timeline  
\- Back injury (highschool)  
\- Eye problems (few yrs ago)  
\- Contract work (few yrs ago)  
\- Woede recall (months ago)  
\- Theft (2 months ago)  
\- Assaults (1 month)

He felt a nagging at the back of his brain. Janus could tell he was missing something obvious, but he couldn’t figure out what. The testimonies didn’t fit together, but none of the witnesses lied. The drug which caused aggravation had been recalled before Oranssi broke the law. Whatever he stole, which was supported by shaky evidence, was unavailable. 

Janus grabbed his phone. He had another call to make, a few more pieces to fill in. Logan answered it promptly.

“Dimitri?”

“Have you helped the forensic team or not?” Janus was not in the mood for conversation. It took most of his self control to hold back the seething rage boiling inside him. Spite was his primary motivator, and it hated asking for help.

“I have. What do you need?” Thank god. Logan was Type A to a fault, but his robotic nature meant he didn’t like small talk either. He was straightforward and direct, which Janus admired. 

“What was stolen from 24th Street?” Janus knew that wasn’t in the forensic evidence, but he didn’t care. Logan was brought on as a consultant, and would’ve been briefed on the relevant details he was trying to elucidate. The police would’ve been more honest with him than they would with a lawyer. Logan was silent for some time. Janus could almost hear his thoughts, realizing that the main lawyer of the case wasn’t allowed to know the stolen items, wondering why, and coming to the conclusion that he should tell. 

“A few things, do you have a pen?” Janus clicked it near the phone’s speaker. “Alright. Dibasic Calcium Phosphate, Lactose, Magnesium Stearate, and Starch were all taken from several cafes around the area. A small clinic across the street reported that Stanozolol was missing.” 

“Thank you,” Janus hung up before Logan could respond. He was already researching the chemicals. Lactose was too broad to look up- it was the main component of milk. He moved on to magnesium stearate. It was found in food, mostly proteins. Starch was another deadend- as a common, controversial food component, there were too many results to sift through. He moved onto the last one, which hadn’t been taken from a restaurant. 

Stanozolol was a synthetic substitute for testosterone. Most HRT used testosterone, in some form or another, to spur on muscle growth or second puberty. Body builders were quite a fan of it, for similar reasons. The molecular composition was so similar to testosterone that it fooled muscle cells, giving the body all the benefits of the male hormone in the moment.

It was also the main active ingredient in steroids. 

Janus quickly pulled up a search from last week- Woede. The top five ingredients were exactly what he expected- stanozolol, dibasic calcium phosphate, lactose, magnesium stearate, and starch. The inactive ingredients, mostly different types of white powders, were added to balance out the active ingredient, allowing for more precise dosages. He added these to his notes on Woede. Janus checked another email, from earlier today.

The powder on the threat he’d received was dibasic calcium phosphate. He connected the ingredient with a neat arrow to the letters.

\- Steroid: Woede (stanozolol, dibasic calcium phosphate, lactose, Mg stearate, starch  
^ “uncredible threats”  
\- Discontinued by FDA- bad side effects (few months ago)(irritability, wakefulness)  
\- Helped O’s eye

Each of the ingredients had been stolen after the drug was discontinued. Had Oranssi… tried to cook his own Woede? The drug had relieved his chronic pain, and the un-diagnosability of the eye problem could have driven him to desperation. Oranssi’s background was completely average, and his trade schooling certainly wouldn’t have prepared him to mix chemicals like this. He’d be an amature, and the possible side effects were dangerous. Janus checked the notes again. Some strange side effects included irritability, which would’ve combined with his already present anger issues. They also listed some stranger ones, like weaker pain receptors and a loss of feeling in limbs.

That could explain why Witness 2 thought he had inhuman strength- his homebrew Woede would’ve improved his physical limitations. But he would’ve had to take an immense amount to cancel out all of his pain receptors. 

Janus tentatively wrote this hypothesis on his notes, and packed his things. It was late at night. He would talk to Logan tomorrow about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research into how steroids work, what they’re made of, and their effects on the body for this chapter. I think I’m now on a few watchlists, oops. Should I include a Works Cited for all the pages I went to? I almost looked up where to get the active ingredient in the most common steroid (stanozolol) but luckily my own common sense slapped my hand away before I typed “How to buy illegal steroids” into google. Thank god for logic.
> 
> Glad I named this Ace Attorney because the leaps in logic here are only surpassed by the games themselves. GameGrumps have a wonderful playthrough of the first game, Snapcube started it on a stream this year, and JelloApocalypse has two videos called Miles Is On Fire that just. kill me.
> 
> As someone who suffered highschool debate, I stand by Janus' notetaking. I toned down the sheer amount of abbreviations he should use (my notes are unreadable because of the personal language I have built for myself, in english, latin, latenglish, and the amount of nonsense symbols only I can decipher). Tell me if it's still unreadable, I'll translate
> 
> I also only know what calcium phosphate is because of a geology class, so... go rocks?


	20. Creativitwins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Remus talk to each other.
> 
> ok i get that's a really vague chapter summary but I'm tired rn sorry
> 
> Content warning: swear words, dry heave mention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a dialogue heavy chapter. Sorry about that. This is the Sympathetic!Remus chapter, or The-Remus-is-trying-his-hardest-to-be-nice-and-supportive!Chapter. This could fall under Unsympathetic!Roman, but it gets resolved at the end. It’s definitely a Roman Angst chapter. 
> 
> The drag king and theater gay are fightingggggg

Roman had become a creature of the night. His first job started in the evening and ended at night. His second job started at night and ended when the sun drove out and scattered whatever customers still lurked. He was still acclimating to the new, nocturnal schedule, but it was physically much healthier than his previous jobs. He was only balancing two jobs, and he had an entire hour between his shifts to himself. The dark bags under his eyes were insistent, but lighter than usual. He was recovering.

It was early in the morning, but the sun hadn’t risen yet. Roman stood on the corner of the street, phone in hand. He’d called a lyft, since it was too dark to walk home. He waited for the chartreuse car in the cold air. A shiver ran down his spine, and fog collected around his legs. Florida summers were hot, but when the sun went down, the humidity became icy. The only lights around him were the streetlamp a few feet away, and the headlights of passing vehicles. It’d been some time since one drove by.

When the light green car finally arrived, Roman wasn’t entirely paying attention. He entered the backseat, fighting off his heavy eyelids. He had to stay awake just long enough to get home.

“Where to?” The driver asked. 

Roman jolted up, suddenly awake. It was a voice he hadn’t heard in years, but was unmistakable. His fight or flight response kicked in as he headed for the door. They slid locked just as his hand reached the handle. He pulled on the door a few times, desperate to leave. 

“What do you want, Remus?” Roman hissed. He’d been so consumed in his own world, thinking about his new job, that he hadn’t even checked the driving app. Roman slid back into his seat, tugging on the seatbelt a few times. If Remus was driving, it better work.

“Oh, Ro. Can’t I just want to see my dear brother?” Remus asked. His voice was condescending, but behind it was a sincerity Roman chose to ignore. The answer was no. He crossed his arms and looked out the window, determined to not talk. Remus shrugged, and floored it. 

Legally, Remus was not a bad driver. He’d never gotten his license revoked, and all traffic accidents he’d been involved in were about parking. That did not mean he was a good driver. He took every turn too quickly, only slowing down when the car itself threatened to flip. He saw speed limits as suggestions, and refused to listen to said suggestions. Roman’s adrenaline had already spiked that night, shortly after he got in the car, but now it plateaued with every twist and turn Remus navigated. They sped down dark and winding roads, occasionally sliding on fog that had condensed on the road’s surface. Every bad decision only deepened Remus’ malevolent, cheshire-catlike grin.

Roman didn’t recognise the route they took, so he wasn’t very surprised when they finally stopped, under an overpass that was nowhere near his apartment. He wasn’t sure they were still in city limits, the signs had moved by too quickly to read. The seatbelt was taunt around his chest, nearly constricting his breathing. Remus didn’t turn around in his seat, but he looked in the rear-view mirror expectantly.

“Take me home, Remus.” Roman’s voice was dry, and he still wouldn’t look at his brother. He pulled his legs closer to his chest.

Remus chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, pouting. He’d meant to stop driving earlier that night, but got a ping on his phone from a prospective passenger that caught his eye. He’d acted impulsively, of course, and now was faced with the end of his nonplan. He’d take his brother home, eventually, but only after they had a talk.

“C’moooon, Ro-boat! You won’t answer my texts, what was I supposed to do?”

“You kidnapped me because I didn’t text you back!?” Roman’s voice was incredulous. His initial fear had simmered into cool anger.

“I think kidnapping only applies to children, but you are younger than me…” 

“Only by four minutes!” Roman looked at his brother, yelling in indignation. He quickly realized his mistake, and settled back in his seat. He looked down, away from Remus, and retreated into himself. “Dios mio, you’re impossible. It doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I just wanted to catch up, see how my baby bro’s doing! I heard Virgil moved in, how’s that going?” Remus had unbuckled his seatbelt and was fully turned around in the driver’s seat, peaking over the headrest to watch Roman’s reaction.

“What do you care?”

“He’s my friend too. I also heard he started dating someone. I have to know, is it that nerdy twink?” Remus’ questions were innocent in nature, and he didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive. Still, Roman was guarded in his answer. He didn’t know what Remus was planning, and his brother had an unfortunate affinity for pyrotechnics.

“Virgil is dating someone, but it’s not Logan.” The car was silent as the realization dawned on Remus, but shook when the epiphany finally struck.

“YOU? You’re dating my- I- Ah- You can do so much better.” Remus stammered, the shock in his voice twisting itself into disgust. He had jumped in place when he put the pieces together, but was readjusting his stance as he collected his thoughts. “He’s not even fun! He just wants to stay indoors and listen to sad music and overthink things-”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Roman’s voice cut through the air with all the stinging and cold malice it was meant to. He watched as a bug crawled across the window. Each of its legs twitched unnaturally, but it’s trek was in a smooth line. It’s belly was light brown, and pressed against the glass. Roman wished he could trade places with the insect, if only to be on the outside of the locked door.

Remus exhaled. He wasn’t offended at his twin’s answer, but rather his stubborn refusal to try. Remus was trying to extend a metaphorical olive branch, and his dramatic brother absolutely refused to reciprocate.

“Romulus-”

“Don’t call me that.” Roman didn’t move, but the tone of his voice was clear. This wasn’t a statement or command- it was a threat. Remus got in fights more, but Roman was physically bigger. They were technically both trained to fight, but in very different ways. Roman’s training was more intense, and his movements would be precise. Remus, on the other hand, learned through mistakes, and his fighting style was spontaneous and focused on inflicting pain. Both brothers were against fighting dirty- with notable exceptions. Namely, each other.

Roman wouldn’t play on Remus’ level. That was fine. He could meet Roman’s level of toxicity. His fingers clenched, digging into the driver seat leather.

“Why, ‘cause Dad called you that? Guess what, Roman, he’s dead! Mom’s losing it, too! Soon, I’ll be your only family, and then you’ll have to talk to me.”

Roman’s head snapped up at the last comment. A confused anger lit Remus’ eyes, but mounting rage burned behind Roman’s.

“We are not family. You lost that right when you walked out and left me alone. You abandoned me, you asshole. And now you just wanna talk, like that never happened? Like you didn’t leave me in that hellhole? Fuck you, Remus.”

“Oh please, I left the family the moment I was born. You always mattered more, you selfish dick. That place loved you, what did it matter that I left?”

“It mattered to me! I cared about you, I loved you. You were my brother, and when you left I was devastated. You didn’t even tell me where you were going. All I had left of you was your stupid knife.” Roman’s voice cracked, and he repressed tears. He’d done it before, ever since he was fifteen, but this was different.

The twins had talked a few times, in person, after they both graduated, but never about family. It was still an open wound, and talking would only pick at the scab. Roman hadn’t sorted through all of his feelings for Remus, as a matter of time. He was never in a good place to emotionally prod himself, break down walls that had been built a decade ago and be honest. Remus’ had different excuses. His feelings were usually simple, and the more complex ones slithered around his subconscious mind, haunting him only when he was isolated and desperate. The air in the car was stuffy, and the outside ambient sounds of insect mating calls and other unsavory natural processes loomed around them.

Remus broke the eye contact first, looking at his hands. They’d ripped through the driver’s seat, scratching slender slits into the backrest. The design was familiar. He was trapped in a room again, clawing at the walls like a scared animal. He was the prey, and some predator was stalking him outside. Internal alarms went off in his head, screaming and begging him to leave. To open the door, light a match, and leave the destruction behind. He wanted to escape.

Roman shifted in his seat. The seatbelt was still tight around his body, keeping him in place. His legs were still curled up, and his crossed arms were tense. Thin fingers dug deep into his skin, destined to leave bruises. He’d mostly ignored the pain, when blazing rage had consumed his mind. Now that the shouting was over, his senses returned, and his arms hurt. 

“Why did you take me out here, Remus?” Roman’s voice was soft. He’d taken a few seconds to get it under control. Remus chuckled dryly, not looking up.

“I thought you would shout, and I was right.”

“You know what I mean. Why did you take me here, tonight?” Roman tried again. He watched Remus’ body language with careful eyes. Remus didn’t look weak, but he was shaking. It was eerily reminiscent of when… he didn’t want to think about it.

“I heard you got sick. I didn’t want...” Roman nodded. He understood what Remus was implying. The two had awful immune systems, but usually were only out for a few days at a time. Roman had been bed ridden for a week, and confined to the apartment for a month. Remus liked to jump to morbid conclusions, and the silence from his twin brother after collapsing, in a particularly bad flu season…. Roman would’ve laughed, had he not felt so tired. The late hour was beginning to take him, as the sun began its steady climb over the horizon. A few clouds were highlighted, spectacular reds with undertones of green, signaling the coming sunrise.

“Well,” Roman started. His voice leaned towards its dramatic bravado, and Remus looked up. “I can’t forgive you for what you did. But, I can try to… talk to you. More.” It was an honest start. A small smile curled Remus’ lips, weakly mirroring his moustache. 

“I won’t forgive you, either,” he started, mocking Roman’s flashy tone. “But I won’t kidnap you every time I want to talk.”  
\--

The night was as fluid as the music outside. A party several houses down was still blaring, and the melodies danced into the twin’s room through a cracked window. It was supposed to be closed at night, but Roman had valiantly popped it open that night. Remus was still crying, mostly sniffles now. He’d dry heaved earlier that day, severely dehydrated. Yesterday he’d snuck onto the Swashbuckler! Set, and today… Roman wasn’t sure what had happened, but when he finally saw his brother, Remus was distraught. His eyes were swollen and red, but his throat was worse. He could barely squeak, after shouting all day until his voice was raw and gone. His hands were white and numb from banging against the walls. It’d taken a while, but eventually he tried to communicate that he’d been locked in a room for most of the day. 

Roman snuck out periodically to steal a snack for his brother. Remus was shaking, sitting in the center of the room staring at the floor. Roman had tried to get him into his bed, but climbing to the top bunk was too much effort. He’d given up his own bed, but Remus wouldn’t have it. He refused to move from that spot. Roman grabbed blankets and pillows from both of their beds, resolute. If Remus insisted on sitting on the floor, Roman would too. He wasn’t sure when, but he did fall asleep. He woke up in a tangle of soft blankets. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings. His brother had wrapped his spindly limbs around him, effectively trapping the young Prince. Roman smiled, and fell back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked it up and kidnapping and abduction are technically different (I am absolutely on a watchlist now), but I still don’t understand the difference. In my state, kidnapping has no age limit, but I don’t know about other states. 
> 
> Can y’all tell I watched a lot of Supernatural? Cause the brothers are fighting… by a bridge! For those lucky enough to have never seen the show, the two brothers argue under a bridge every. Damn. season. It’s the same set, too. I think I’ve seen it on other CW shows and it’s distracting because I can’t focus on whatever the Flash is doing, all I’m thinking is about how Sam and Dean are probably around the corner fighting about the moral ambiguity of stabbing christian demons.
> 
> The weekend is upon us! I know I've been bad about posting this week, but I expect the weekend to be worse. The weekend is always worse for me. The next chapter is about Janus, Logan, Roman, and the Oranssi Case. I promise those fight scenes are coming up- we're in the final quarter of this fic now.


	21. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus comes to Logan with a few, final questions about the Oranssi case. Roman helps answer them. A surprise person "greets" them at the end.
> 
> Content warnings: chapter contains a fight scene, self medication, drugging, drug use, self harm references, alcohol mentions, intoxication mentions, death threat, blood mentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll explain the title in the end notes. Sorry about a dialogue heavy chapter (it falsely inflates chapter length).  
> A longer fight scene is coming (ch 24 I think)  
> Layman means normal person. It’s used when you have to explain something to someone who is not an expert or has no experience in a relevant field. Example: When I talk about vine to my parents, they’re laymen, because they’ve never heard of the app and haven’t seen any vines.
> 
> Take a sip of water every time you read "hypothetically" in this and you might die of water poisoning.

Logan didn’t work on Sundays. He wasn’t opposed to it, but the forensics department was closed, and having a day to himself was refreshing. Patton had whisked Virgil (and Thomas) away to the animal shelter on another scheduled “family bonding” day. Roman was fast asleep, despite the sun steadily climbing into the sky. Logan liked the silence- it allowed him to think. He wasn’t busy with work, but he did have things to do. He’d been putting off a particularly fascinating chemistry journal for a day when he finally had time. 

He’d gotten through most of a report when a sharp knock at the door interrupted him. He could stop here- it was just the conclusion. He’d already gotten all he needed from the bulk of the paper. Logan checked through the peephole to see who was at the door. Janus looked back through the door, daring him to open it. Logan knew the lawyer couldn’t see him, but the sheer confidence of Janus’ look would’ve fooled a lesser man.

He let his guest in, wondering why Janus hadn’t warned him ahead of time. He was carrying a briefcase and cane. He was clearly ready to work. Without any acknowledgement, Janus strided towards the table, casually explaining his reason for being here.

“I need to run some theories by you- you’re not busy, right?” The question was mocking. Both men knew the answer was no. Logan sat down, moving the chemistry journal to rest in a different chair. Janus spread a few different papers on the open surface, and started speaking again.

“I’ve been doing some research into the Oranssi Case. I’ve mostly figured it out, I just need to ask you a few questions.” Even when he wanted help, Janus sang his own praises. Logan was trying to read the papers before him, but looked up.

“Exactly what are the dangers of taking homemade steroids?” Janus’ question caught the chemist off guard.

“There- There’s a plethora of dangers. Improper dosage, improper measuring, unreliable timing between doses, overdosing, underdosing, and environmental contaminants, to name a few. Why? What does this have to do with the case?”

“Herbert Oranssi has been making, and taking, his own steroids.” Janus’ response was a hypothesis, but stated with conviction. He was sure about this, and just needed an expert to confirm it. That’s where Logan came in. 

Logan was silent for a moment, regarding his guest. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. What Janus was accusing the defendant of was… serious, to say the least. He was trying to deduce how Janus had come to that conclusion. The notes on the table were about a recalled steroid- Woede- and Robert Oranssi. A loose timeline of his crimes was sketched out, but too sparse to be helpful. The evidence was there, but it was all circumstantial. Logan couldn’t think of a motive to try something so risky.

“Walk me through it.” 

Janus’ face was neutral, but he gloated on the inside. This was good practice for the trail itself, when he would have to walk a layman jury through the process. He grabbed the note about Oranssi, and started.

“Oranssi has an eye condition that causes chronic pain. He was taking a steroid, Woede,” he held up the Woede note in his other hand, “but it was recalled a few months ago. That’s when the trouble started. He steals dibasic calcium phosphate, lactose, magnesium stearate, starch, and stanozolol from 24th Street. Using these five ingredients, he tries to make his own replacement medication.” 

Logan nodded. The story was plausible, but… unlikely. Surely, he could’ve tried a different drug, or gotten surgery. Cooking your own supplements was a drastic measure to take, only a truly desperate person would consider, much less try, it.

“Make his own? Presumably, he would’ve tried other options instead?” Janus had an answer ready.

“His eye condition is undiagnosed. Doctors couldn’t agree what it was, so his treatment options were very limited. The steroid seemed to work, when he was on it, and he didn’t report any side effects.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Your own notes say that Woede was recalled because the side effects were too detrimental to the patients, and outweighed the benefits.”

“Yes! He didn’t report any side effects, because he was already experiencing them. He had latent anger issues already, so the extra irritability went unnoticed.” Janus placed the notes back on the table.

Logan still wasn’t convinced. At that moment, a door opened and Roman stepped into the hallway, clearly having just woken up. His pajamas were crumpled and his hair was messy. A slender hand covered a yawn, and he didn’t seem to notice Logan or Janus. He lumbered into the kitchen, grabbed a snack, and disappeared back into his room. Logan tried to ignore the distraction, but Janus’s eyes had lit up. He had an idea, and it centered on Roman.

When Roman came back out, in real clothes and looking decidedly more presentable, he finally noticed the guest. His eyes widened, and then narrowed in recognition. This was the guy who intimidated his boyfriend. And now he was just talking to Logan, as if he were an innocent stranger. 

“Janus, what are you doing here?” he accused. Janus smiled.

“Roman! I’m here on business, would you care to help?” Logan looked between the two, trying to understand whatever he was missing. About a week ago, Virgil had mentioned that Janus came to the apartment alone… was that what was going on? Had he and Roman met before? Roman looked frustrated, but Janus seemed completely comfortable. Logan couldn’t read what their last interaction had been.

Roman stood still, not wanting to let Janus out of his sight. Logan was smart, but if he’d let the man who hurt Virgil back into the apartment, he must be being manipulated. He exhaled slowly, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t want to play along with whatever the snake wanted, but he did want to protect Logan. Roman moved closer to the table. He could pretend to agree with Janus- he was an actor, after all. Fooling people was his job.

Janus stifled a laugh. He knew Roman would fall for the trap, and join them. He was on edge, still tense from their last… meeting. Good. Janus wanted him stressed. Remus was a creative fountain, but always required a nudge before he came up with something remarkable. It was only reasonable that his twin would be the same. So far, everything was going according to plan. Janus repressed the laugh again. He was a lawyer- fooling people was his job.

“Thank you. Now, you’re familiar with desperation, right?” The question cut deep. Roman exhaled sharply, both offended and wounded by the inquiry. Janus was correct. Roman remembered when Swashbuckler! had been canceled, and his mental state shattered. He’d never fully recovered, and the scars on his limbs attested to that. 

Logan straightened up and cleared his throat. “There’s no need to get personal,” he tried to defend. “What’s your point.” The statement was said too dryly to be a question. He was drawing the line in the sand. Janus could see that he was one strike down. It didn’t matter. He’d rattled Roman’s feathers enough already. The rest of his questions weren’t nearly as rude.

“Of course. I was just wondering if someone with… personal experience could answer some questions for me.” Roman nodded his head. He didn’t trust his voice.

“Wonderful. Now, hypothetically,” he exaggerated the word and overdramatically winked. He wasn’t allowed to talk about the case with people who the police hadn’t intentionally brought in, but he could concoct a harmless hypothetical scenario to a friend. “Imagine for me, a hypothetical man in hypothetically incredible pain. He takes hypothetical eye medication for it, but the hypothetical FDA pulls it from the hypothetical shelves. He can’t go to a hypothetical doctor, because his hypothetical chronic pain is from a hypothetically undiagnosable condition. What would he, hypothetically, do?” Roman pondered the query for a moment.

“He would try to get the drug again.” Janus nodded enthusiastically, the sarcasm in his tone saturating his motions.

“He should, shouldn’t he? But! The hypothetical FDA won’t endorse the hypothetical drug, no matter how hypothetically hard he tries. What then?”

“Then he’d find another option… like making his own.” Janus laughed. Logan looked down at the notes on the table, stunned. While he didn’t consider Roman to be a “reasonable” person, he did acknowledge that Roman was a good friend, and tried his best to be a moral citizen. The speed at which he arrived at the conclusion of making his own drugs was… disturbing. He had to chime in.

“Making your own drugs is remarkably dangerous! He would have to have training and the proper equipment to not suffer grave consequences. At worst, he’d be dead.” 

Janus pointed to one of the notes on the table.

“Ah, but there were consequences. One witness’ testimony, hypothetically,” he cast a glance to Roman, who was still sitting at the table, “says he was bedridden the day the robberies were reported. Another hypothetical witness noticed a back injury, which hadn’t been a problem since highschool.” Logan was putting the pieces together, and jumped in with his own explanation.

“Which could be explained by inflammation, if the ingredient proportions were off. Too much of the active ingredient would overextend his muscles, and leave them in worse condition than before. And if an environmental contaminant was mixed in with the ingredients, it could have a negative reaction that his immune system would take days to fight off.”

Janus nodded. He knew Logan would only confirm his theory. Roman looked confused, trying to piece together what the others were talking about. He didn’t have any of the context, hypothetically, but he could think on his feet. His jaw was tight in concentration. Logan continued talking, still deep in thought.

“And that would explain why the forensic evidence was so… strange. Calcium phosphate reacts to hydrogen peroxide, which the restaurant used to clean tables. That’s why it took so long for them to notice the shortage. And magnesium stearate is sticky and reactive. It bonded to whatever evidence was there, confounding forensic scientists. Your theory is starting to make sense,” he conceded. 

“You said this was for an eye condition?” Roman asked. It caught Janus by surprise. He’d assumed Remus’ twin would be as obtuse as his brother. Roman pleasantly surprised him. Janus nodded, unsure of where this would go. He was intrigued.

“I’ve met someone like this. One eye was completely useless, and he was ordering drinks so often… he must’ve been trying to numb the pain. I thought he stumbled because he was drunk, but that could’ve been his back injury. He was super rude, too, hypothetically.” Roman met Janus’ eyes with that last word.

“Wait, you’ve seen him? Where? When?” Logan asked. His voice was serious. Roman didn’t grasp why the question was so important, but answered nonetheless.

“At work, in the bar. He used to be a regular, except for a month. He started coming back after that, and refused to talk about it.” He made a confused face, wondering why Logan was interrogating him. He had the least knowledge about the case. Logan was mulling something over in his mind.

“I wondered why the police were so quiet about the case,” he muttered, realizing dawning. “He must’ve escaped custody.”

“Did they not tell you?” Janus asked. Why wouldn’t the police let in the man who cracked the case, scientifically? What was the use of hiding information from him? Logan looked similarly confused. They didn’t tell the lawyer what had been stolen, but they told him that the main suspect had escaped? Roman put the pieces together first.

“He’s got a friend on the force.” Both Logan and Janus looked at him, wanting a better explanation. “Remus and I used to do this all the time. The best lies are closest to the truth,” -Janus nodded- “But they’re still lies. Anyone with all the facts could figure them out. So, if you only tell people some of the facts, enough that they’re not suspicious, then they waste time trying to figure out the whole story.”

“That still doesn’t explain his possible ‘friend on the force’.” Logan retorted.

“Well who do you think fed you those facts?”

They all heard a clear sound. Knocking. It was polite, but it sounded deafening. It broke the three from their intense focus on the Oranssi Case. They didn’t react, necessarily, but it was shocking. Janus’ eyes darted to and fro, finally settling on the door. Roman looked up sharply. Logan got to his feet. He could sense the unease coming from his friends (mostly Roman), and calmly walked to the door. He hoped that his demeanor would rub off on the others, and allay their fears. 

Whomever was outside the door waited patiently. Logan checked the peep hole, and didn’t recognise the man. He smiled, holding up a letter by his face. He looked like a mailman. Logan opened the door. The man was taller than him, and broader, too. He looked like an athlete, vast and broad. Logan realized his mistake too late. 

Mail wasn’t delivered on Sundays. This had to be the man who was threatening to kill him.

He heard Roman gasp behind him in recognition. He didn’t react quick enough. Oranssi shoved something in Logan’s face. The fumes made him dizzy, and he stumbled backwards. Oranssi pressed forward, entering the apartment. He pushed Logan into the wall. Logan hit it hard, and collapsed. Roman stood up and grabbed Janus’ cane. “What are you doing here.” He commanded, holding the weapon straight out. Oranssi said nothing, but continued to move forward. Roman vaulted the table, landing on his feet deftly. He stood between the attacker and Janus. 

Oranssi lunged first. He went low, trying to knock Roman off balance. Roman blocked, holding the cane with both hands. Oranssi didn’t have a weapon, but he was strong. Too strong. He leaned forward, and Roman slid backwards on his heels. Roman dodged to the side, abandoning his weapon. Oranssi held it in both hands, leaving his middle open. Roman striked his sternum quickly, then backed away. Oranssi wasn’t phased. He threw the cane aside, and grabbed Roman by the shoulders. In a swift movement, he threw the smaller man to the ground, and continued to move forward. Roman swept his leg, knocking Oranssi off balance. He came crashing to the ground as Roman stood up, ready for another round. He was vaguely aware of Janus behind him, sneaking along the wall. Oranssi stood up and cracked his neck.

Roman attacked first, going for the windpipe. Oranssi caught his arm in the act, and held it in place. His grip was painfully tight. He lifted Roman by the arm, and flung him aside. Roman landed in a heap on the ground. His body ached all over, but he stood up. Oranssi was right on top of him, grabbing him by the throat. He coughed, gasping for air, but his attacker wouldn’t let up. Roman struggled futility. His lungs burned.

In a single movement, Oranssi kicked out, forcing Janus to the ground and dropping Roman. Roman inhaled deeply, and tried to move. His body screamed in pain. He felt Logan underneath him, the nerd’s body limp. Oranssi hit Roman again, kicking him in the ribs. He felt something crack.

Oranssi turned to his final target. Janus was on the ground, shaking in pain. He was trapped. Oranssi stopped on his leg, reveling in the resulting shriek of pain. He watched the lawyer under him jerk and writhe, but he was pinned. Oranssi pressed harder, and Janus screamed. 

Roman braced himself against the wall, every breath bringing more pain than the last. He was making his way towards the table, where the cane was. Oranssi was busy with Janus, giving him precious time. He grabbed the curved weapon and turned. One arm held his wounded torso, the other his armament. He charged, crashing the metal instrument into Oranssi’s back. 

Oranssi bellowed in agony. He whirled around, rage fueling his movements. Roman walked backwards, realizing the gravity of his mistake. His breathing was ragged, and not even adrenaline could mask the dread that filled his stomach. His back hit the wall, but Oranssi kept advancing. He threw a careless punch into the wall. Roman dodged. He darted for the table as Oranssi freed his fist from the wall. It left a sizable hole. He turned towards Roman, and used a single hand to throw the table out of the way. Roman wielded a chair, using both hands. He smashed it against Oranssi’s side. It cracked thunderously, sending splinter shrapnel in all different directions. Oranssi continued to advance, unhurt. He threw another punch, striking Roman’s face. The sheer force sent Roman to the ground, ears ringing. His vision was fuzzy. He felt something painful on his side, another kick. 

Janus watched Roman fall unconscious from the other side of the apartment. Oranssi turned and made eye contact. Janus had maneuvered his way into sitting up, his lame leg still throbbing. His breathing was labored, white hot pain emanating from his hip with every heartbeat. He looked into Oranssi’s eyes. One was orange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, mail does get delivered on Sundays. Not usually, but because of the rona, the post office is working extra hard. Support the United States Postal Service, y’all! (there's a John Oliver's Last Week Tonight segment about it)
> 
> For those of you who haven’t experienced it- getting hit in the back with a metal stick fucking sucks. My friend’s younger brother beat me with a golf club around a decade ago and I still remember it. We’re still friends, and her younger brother is a super chill guy (now), but FUCK did it hurt. The kidney shots were the worst. A different friend’s younger brother once punched me in the kidney (that time I asked him to) and I almost cried.
> 
> Why's the chapter called "Orange"?
> 
> I subscribe to the Orange Side Is Wrath Theory (I've also seen Belief or Apathy). There's a lot of theories going around (some very cool fan art of Logan or Roman being the secret Orange Side) and I have no idea how accurate the theory is, but I like it! I looked it up a while ago, like a month, and "Oranssi" is Finnish for "orange." Also "Woede" is Dutch for "rage." I gave him an eye condition for the steroid to treat, because of blinding rage. It's a stupid pun, I know, but let me have fun. please.


	22. Abduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil, Patton, and Thomas spend the beginning of Sunday with some nice family bonding. Remus ruins it. 
> 
> Content Warnings: Content warnings: depression mention, human ashes mentions, rape mention in the author's ending notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having trouble with depression (go quarantine) but writing every day is really helpful. If you're having trouble with depression, try doing something repetitive every day. Also Cyan from OSP says that drinking water (H2O, not soda or anything else), eating food, and washing your hair makes you feel a lot better.
> 
> This is a short chapter, but I think the next ones are going to be a lot longer. Not sure how long, since I haven't written them yet, but more than 1000 words for sure

Virgil had set an alarm for Sunday. It was a special morning. Patton had wanted to show Virgil the animal shelter for a while now, but today they made good on it. Patton hadn’t explained much about his job, head of the volunteering wing, but he did tease that Thomas had a job there. Virgil would mostly shadow his brother, but he was still excited. 

The alarm beeped as loud as it could, and he quickly shut it off. Roman came in late last night, and was still deep in sleep. Virgil paused, just watching. When he wasn’t having a nightmare, Roman looked serene when he slept. Virgil realized how creepy it was, to watch his boyfriend sleep, and prepared for the day.

Thomas was a well behaved cat. Patton was to thank for that, he’d spent lots of time training him as a kitten. Roman spent the second most time with him, which probably explained his more dramatic tendencies. They all packed into Patton’s van, and headed off. The animal shelter wasn’t very far, but Patton had a special parking space (Volunteer Coordinator) that he loved to use. Virgil carried Thomas in through the front doors.

The animal shelter was a long building, with lots of open outdoor space behind it. The front room was modest, with a few waiting chairs, and a single desk. The desk secretary greeted Patton warmly. Thomas leapt onto the elevated surface, and found a suitable place to watch visitors. He spent most of his time at that desk, observing visitors and getting petted by children. He wasn’t the mascot of the shelter, but he was essential.

Patton led Virgil behind the desk, to a corridor with doors every few feet. The adoption wing was the largest part of the building, besides the animal care facilities. They passed the large glass doors and took a moment to peek in. A few different secretaries were talking on phones behind desks, and a small cubicle showed off the best looking animals. A few baby birds were sleeping, nestled next to their mother, who had expanded her feathers to an almost spherical degree. 

Patton and Virgil continued. The volunteer section wasn’t a blocked off part of the shelter, since the volunteers worked almost everywhere, but Patton did have his own office. It was cozy, a windowless room with a single desk, chair, and filing cabinets stacked to the ceiling. Virgil looked in a few. They were complete messes. Files leaned this way and that, in no discernable order, and spilled papers wherever they went. Patton managed to navigate the clutter, grabbing a few different stacks and setting them on his desk.

“I’ve got to sort through a few things here, but then I can show you the puppy wing.” Virgil waited patiently. A few volunteers came in, checked a calendar that hung behind Patton’s chair, and left silently. The calendar seemed divided teams into different jobs- today Blue and Star team were on cage cleaning, while Circle and Gamma team were on health checks.

It took about half an hour. Virgil checked his phone in the down time. Remus had sent him a few memes, in the ill named “roommate” group chat. Janus hadn’t responded, but he never really did. Virgil wasn’t sure about Remus. It’d been some time since he moved out, and Remus didn’t seem to be mad. He still texted with the same frequency- dangerous ideas, stupid requests, dumb memes, and the like. Honestly, Virgil was glad. He didn’t know what he’d do if both of his former roommates were mad at him. He wasn’t sure if Remus knew about Virgil and Roman, but he didn’t want to say. They all had secrets- it was only healthy.

Patton finished with a grin. He started to lead his brother back towards the adoption wing, waving hi to a few secretaries and excitedly babbling about how one of the older dogs’s puppies were getting socialized this week. They weren’t sure what kind of dog breed they were, but they were adorable. Patton opened a few more doors, and navigated the building until they reached the back. The hot summer sun was blaring down on the open space. A few different volunteers were outside, suffering in the heat, but smiling. They were trying to untangle a sizable knot of leashes, while puppies jumped excitedly around them.  
\--

Remus woke up late, sore all over. Work yesterday had been… strenuous, and today was his day off. He was enjoying a lazy morning, just laying still in bed and thinking, when the buzzing of his phone alerted him. It was a text from Roman.

“Your roommate’s here.” 

Remus had noticed the apartment felt empty, but he had chalked it up to his own depression. His phone showed that it was almost noon. He sent a quick text back.

“Is that bad?”

The response was instantaneous. Roman must’ve been hiding in his room.

“YES. Last time he was here he kissed me.”

Remus really didn’t understand what the problem was.

“Cool. We made out last week.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“We weren’t talking then!”

Remus waited a moment, but Roman didn’t text back. He rolled out of bed, landed on his face, and started the day. He was working on something big, and last night’s dream had struck him with more inspiration. He retreated back to his office, where papers littered the floor. He grabbed one of the few pencils on the ground- specifically the one that stabbed him in the foot- and started drawing.

Remus didn’t have any official diagnoses, but his twin had ADHD, and he probably had something similar. He didn’t “suffer” from it in the formal sense, but he did have a problem with hyperfocusing. It was the perfect double edged sword. His concentration could become unbreakable, and he’d get monumental amounts of work done. However, it meant that he didn’t notice anything around him. The sun was significantly lower in the sky when he finally stopped drawing, taking a breath to check his work. It was perfectly horrifying. His stomach growled in protest as he realized that he hadn’t eaten or drank anything for the past several hours. 

Using shaky legs, Remus forced himself to stand, and get food. There wasn’t much in the fridge, but he could scavenge. There was a note taped to the door, from Janus. He read it without much thought, too consumed by the need to eat. 

“Talking to a source for work. Be back before 3 -Jan”

Tonight was movie night. They wanted to start, and finish, the “Alien” series, which meant that Janus had to be back before 3 pm. Remus checked his phone while munching on an apple. One text from Roman. It was an apology, punctuated by a few emojis. Remus started to head back to his office, when an alarm went off. It was still from his phone. The alarm to start watching a movie. Janus still wasn’t home. Remus sent a quick text to Janus.

“We still on tonight?”

No response. He waited, and waited. And waited. And waited. He texted Roman, the last person to have seen the missing roommate.

“Is Jan still there?”

No response. He sent another.

“Ro?”  
“Roman?”  
“Roman coke?”  
“Ro are you there?”  
“Ro answer me”  
“This isn’t funny anymore”

He tried calling. No response. He tried again. Still nothing. He left a curt voicemail. 

He was running out of options. Desperation and anxiety fought in his head. There was another person he could call, but… was he ready for that? Would he even get an answer? What if they hated him?

Deciding this was too important, he dialed the number and grit his teeth.   
\--

Patton went home early on Sundays. He and Logan usually spent Sunday nights together, curled up on the bed reading. He, Virgil, and Thomas were in the car, driving home, when Virgil’s phone rang.

“Remus?” he asked, weary. Remus didn’t call people, unless it was dire. Patton cast his brother a side glance. Patton never liked Remus, and was still suspicious of him.

“VIRGIL!” Remus screamed through the phone. He sounded frantic. “I need your help!”

Patton shook his head. If Remus wanted Virgil’s help with something, it couldn’t be good. He was a bad influence, and Janus had already tried to make Virgil move out. Virgil hesitated.

“Remus, I’m not-”

“It’s Jan! He went to your place and was supposed to be back by now but he’s not and I asked Roman where he is but he’s not answering which is weird because we were talking earlier today but now it’s total radio silence and I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t need you but I do-”

“Wait. Remus, where are you?” Virgil’s voice was slow and clear. He recognised the panic his friend was experiencing, and tried to help. 

“I’m at home.”

“Ok. We’re coming to get you.”

Patton wasn’t on board with the idea, but one look in Virgil’s eyes changed his mind. Virgil’s face was determined. He was going to help Remus if that meant getting out of the car while Pat was driving.  
\--

Thomas wasn’t a fan of Remus. Cats had better senses of smell than humans, and Remus was… repugnant. He’d hissed and tensed up when Remus entered the car, and was now sitting on Virgil’s lap, keeping a distrustful watch of the new passenger. 

Remus had explained the situation to Virgil on the way over, after he calmed down. He was still uneasy, but he was masking it. Virge picked up on other people’s anxieties subconsciously, so Remus had made a point of masking his tension around his jumpier friend. He’d been doing it for years, and today was no exception. Virgil and Patton had made a few calls, but no one in the apartment was answering.  
\--

It took some time to navigate the Florida traffic, but they made it home as quickly as possible. They ran to the door, but stopped short. The outside looked perfectly fine, but it wasn’t locked. There was no way Logan would’ve left it like that. He’d made a habit of locking the door, even when he was in there, to ease Virgil’s fears. Patton pressed it open and gasped.

The first thing Virgil noticed was the hole in the wall at the end of the hallway. It was small, but the surrounding creator meant someone had hit it- hard. The sheer force would’ve broken bones. The wooden support beam behind the drywall was splintered and several cracks snaked their way along the plank. 

Patton entered slowly, taking in the destruction. The table had been overturned, legal notes and a chemistry journal scattered around it on the floor. One of the chairs was broken, wooden remains left in a heap on the ground. A metal cane was haphazardly thrown in, bent in two places.

Remus tried to take in the whole scene. He’d never been to this place before, but he could recognise a fight. The air around the doorway was stuffy, and he coughed. It had a salty tang. Thomas was on the ground, prowling around the hallway. He stepped in something on the ground, and hissed. Remus inspected it. A bit of mud, probably from someone’s shoe. It’s texture seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. 

Virgil turned around to look at his brother. He wanted to say something consoling, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Remus swipe a finger in something on the ground, and lick it. His face contorted in disgust.

“Why would anyone…” his voice trailed off in fear. There was no sign of Logan, Janus, or Roman. Someone must’ve taken them. Remus coughed again, wiping the extra mud on his finger onto his pants. Patton was still silent. A dreadful thought occurred to him, but he refused to speak it; he couldn’t even make eye contact. He didn’t want to scare his brother.

“I know this,” Remus started. It was on the tip of his tongue. The taste was like most mud, but there was a hint of something too specific to mistake. Just under the wet and earthy mud flavor was something dry and old. Ashes. “I know where this is from!” Remus nearly shouted, the epiphany bringing a smile to his face. He met the others’ confused faces, and quickly dropped the smile.

“Virge, you remember January 10th?” Virgil nodded, unsure of where this was going. “This is it. The same field. I can taste the ashes.” He ignored Patton’s look of disgust and horror. “There’s a shack not too far from that field… whoever was here must be using that! But for what?” Patton finally spoke up.

“I know why. Whoever was threatening us. He took Logan-” his voice cracked. Patton rubbed something from his eyes, and looked away. 

Virgil was still looking at Remus. January 10th was…. A weird day. It was the first day after Winter Break, in freshman year. The school day was completely normal. Afterschool, Janus didn’t want to study. He led Remus and Virgil to the field near the school. It had rained heavily the night before, and wet mud stuck to their shoes. The field itself was fenced in by lush trees, and Virgil had never ventured into them, but Remus assured him they created a labyrinthine forest. Janus opened his backpack, and took out a grey jar. It was full of something, but neither friend knew what. Slowly, Janus unscrewed the lid, and started to pour. He threw them as far as he could, spreading the remains of his father thinly across the field. Later, he explained to Virgil that his father had wanted to be cremated, and someone to spread his ashes on a rich beach in Europe. Janus got a sick sense of pride from the act, spreading the ashes over a Florida Catholic highschool field. They didn’t celebrate the day, but it stuck with Virgil.

“You know where this is?” Virgil asked. Remus nodded, mentally on the same page. 

“Then let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You choose how much time goes between Remus’ texts. Personally, I think it’s three seconds between them but I’m an impatient person.
> 
> Good thing to know- a very common date r*pe drug tastes disgustingly salty. If you’re out and something tastes too salty to be normal, get out of there with someone you trust.


	23. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The captured boys are suffering
> 
> Content Warning: drug mentions, drugging, fight mentions, body horror, torture, swear words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I hate this chapter. I know you're supposed to write fanfic for yourself, but publishing this is giving me all sorts of anxiety. You can skip this chapter if you don't like the content- I promise things are going to get better in ch 24.
> 
> Brain: he’s the Disney prince character  
> Me: i know  
> Brain: WHY did he get kidnapped TWICE  
> Me: if you’re a Disney character who likes men, it’s a very real possibility that you get kidnapped. It happened to Eugene from Tangled  
> Brain: some of your first fics were about torture  
> Me: yeah  
> Brain: so why are you still so bad at writing it?  
> Me: I don't know  
> Brain: YOU’VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR TEN YEARS  
> Me: I KNOW THAT  
> Brain: HOW HAVE YOU NOT IMPROVED  
> Me: I DON'T KNOW
> 
> Rondoel.tumblr.com has some primo lognice comics where Logan is just. Blind. Without his glasses and I love that hc
> 
> Michanikós is the greek word for “engineer” according to inotherlanguages.com. I almost used the latin “fectum” but Logan Fectum sounded weird to me, and fectum directly translates to Made/Did Man and I would NOT let that be Logan’s last name. That would make the roots of his name be “smart didman”

When Logan came to, it was because of the headache. His head throbbed with a pain he’d never experienced before. It was excruciating.

He couldn’t see very well, and didn’t feel his glasses. The scene around him was blurry, but he was beginning to put some pieces together. He was in the passenger seat of a car. The sun had gone down, and the road before him was blank and dark. Condensed droplets of mist covered the windshield. He blinked a few times, trying to bring them into focus. Very slowly they obliged.

His chest hurt. He could feel something tight along his skin. Thin but sturdy cording bound his hands, at the wrists, and his arms to his chest. His back was tied to the seat, so tightly it constricted his breathing. Logan looked around, trying to get his bearings. Roman was stretched along the backseat, unconscious, similarly tied up. His face was slowly turning red- he must’ve been hit.

Memories came in waves. Janus had come to talk about the Oranssi Case, Roman was helping, and then… And then he was attacked. The man had drugged him, and he woke up here. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it was night. He looked around again. No one was in the driver’s seat. 

“Roman!” Logan hissed. No response; he was out cold. Logan was alone. He started to plan. Whomever attacked had to be the sender of the notes, since there was no return address. He had been stronger than Logan expected- was he on steroids? He’d drugged Logan with something, and that was the end of his memory. Since Roman was also in the car, Janus and the attacker had to be close by. They couldn’t have gotten too far, certainly not out of state. Roman had mentioned that Oranssi had a co-conspirator on the police force, he probably couldn’t call for help. Logan struggled against the seat he was tied to. If he had enough time, he could maybe loosen them up.

The driver door opened, and Oranssi stepped in. He wasn’t wearing the post officer uniform anymore, but looked angry. He slammed the door and started the car. They had driven for a few minutes before he looked over, and saw Logan.

“You’re awake,” he spat. They continued driving in silence. Logan tried to mentally map where they were, but the road looked the same. They made so many turns he started to lose count. It was too dark to see, and the contextless twists made him motionsick. Roman stirred behind them, but remained unconscious. When Oranssi parked, he started speaking.

“Here’s the deal. You’re going to make Woede for me, and I won’t kill Sleeping Beauty.” Logan mulled it over for a moment.

“Are you going to untie my hands?” He asked, voice hoarse. Fear and neglect mangled his throat, but his words were concise. Ornassi glared in response. “I’ll need two hands to make it. That, or a lab partner.” Logan explained. He stared forward, trying to discern whatever was in front of him. All he saw was the blurry forms of trees. The world was silent as Oranssi thought it over. He was rageful, but not stupid. Logan’s proposal made sense, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to run.  
\--

Roman woke up in what he assumed was a shack. It was dark and damp, like the Room. A chill of fear crawled down his back. He was tied to something stiff. He looked around, barely making out his surroundings. The walls were wooden. The space was small, and he was alone. He could hear something beyond the walls, it sounded like talking. When he tried to call out, no sound escaped. Despite his struggling, his body didn’t move. He was paralyzed. Every breath hurt. He remembered a fight. Someone had kicked him, hard, and cracked a few ribs. The cording around his waist was tight, further constricting his breathing.  
\--

Logan was trying to put the pieces together. He hadn’t seen Janus since he woke up, but he’d struck a deal with Oranssi. He was working in a room, hands untied, but the only door was locked. In front of him were most of the ingredients to make steroids. He’d been shoved into the room before he could see Roman again.

He got to work, using the alone time to think. Roman didn’t look too hurt, but a large welt had been forming on his cheek. He must’ve fought Oranssi. Logan sighed. Roman’s injured state would make it harder to escape, but he refused to leave a friend behind. The drug was almost ready. He was making a few doses, as insurance. He couldn’t risk giving Oranssi any reason to hurt his friends.

He paced the room, trying to think. The lock was heavy duty. He wouldn’t escape that way. Despite the wood being old, warped from the humidity, and nailed together haphazardly, the walls were sturdy. He wouldn’t escape that way. All of the chemistry instruments were cheap, and would make for weak weapons. He couldn’t escape that way. The pills were ready. Logan made his way to the door, and knocked three times. It was code. No response. He turned back to the table to look over his work. 

The door opened silently. Oranssi clamped a hand over Logan’s mouth. The chemist tried to scream and struggled, but the lack of oxygen was getting the better of him.  
\--

Logan woke up tied to a chair. He tried to take in his surroundings, but without his glasses, it was useless. Everything was dark. He listened for any indication of what was happening around him. Someone was directly behind him, breathing. It was light, underscored by a wheeze.

“Roman?” Logan whispered. He felt something behind him move. That had to be him.

“Logan!” Roman whispered back, excitedly. He’d been alone for so long, he must’ve drifted off. It was good to know his friend was still here. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright, what about you?”

“I’m fine.” Roman lied. Every inhale hurt, and he could hear himself slightly wheezing. He hoped Logan couldn’t hear it. “Where’s…” he racked his brain for the name. “Oranssi?”

“Outside. I think he’s done with us, I did everything he asked.”

“You WHAT?” Roman hissed. He thought Logan was smarter than this.

“He asked me to make him a pain killer, and I did! It was that, or he’d kill you,” Logan defended. Roman rolled his eyes.

“And you’re supposed to be the smart one. This is, like, basic math!” He heard Logan scoff indignantly, but kept going. “You shouldn’t help him- he’s nuts! He kidnapped us, and you cracked under the slightest pressure.”

“Slightest press- Roman, he threatened your life!” Roman remained silent. Logan exhaled in disbelief. “Good to know that if our positions were switched, you’d let him just kill me.” He felt Roman move behind him again.

“That’s not what I’m saying. You’re more important here. I’m deadweight. You need to get out of here.” Logan blinked.

“I’m not going to leave you here. You matter to me. I need you.” Roman laughed, dejectedly.

“Don’t kid yourself, Lo. You’re better than me, and always have been. Get out of here, and don’t look back.”

Logan was about to interject when an unforeseen door opened. Janus was pushed in, followed by Oranssi. He held the smaller man up by an arm. Logan couldn’t see either very well, but looked up at them. Roman was looking Oranssi in the eyes. 

“You are going to do everything I say, or else,” he threatened, throwing Janus to the ground. He didn’t move, but Oranssi left. Logan thought he heard something click, like a lock. Roman tried to scoot his chair towards the man on the floor, but it was futile. 

Oranssi hadn’t tied up Janus much, but it didn’t matter. His hands were bound at the wrist, behind his back. A small tremor, emanating from his leg, shook his whole body. He looked weak, physically and existentially. His eyes were open, but they looked vacant.

“Dimitri? Is that you?” Logan asked. He couldn’t see him on the floor, but he was reasonably confident in his guess. He heard a groan which he inferred to be a “yes.” Whatever Oranssi had done, it was debilitating.  
\--

The others had nodded off, but Roman was still awake. The sun must’ve come up, he was sure of it, but he could barely see. The room was dark, and he was beginning to lose his mind. The only way he could measure the passage of time was by the breathing behind him. 

He’d had a lot of time to think. Logan’s words passed through his mind a few times, but were drowned out by other, more depressing thoughts. He remembered the earnest look in Remus’ eyes last night. He hadn’t realized how much he cared until he saw how hurt Remus was. Roman had promised to try, to be better, to reach out more. And here he was, chastising Logan for not killing him. His thoughts drifted again. Virgil. He wished he'd seen Virgil that morning, one final time. They’d probably never see each other again. Roman’s heart sank. He remembered how scared Virgil was, reading the death threat. Roman had lulled him out of it by singing. He hoped Virgil knew well enough to stay away. He thought about Patton, too. When he found out Roman graduated early, and was the youngest of the group, some paternal instinct activated. From then on, he’d been Roman’s first and best friend. The thought of not seeing him again only added to the awful dread in his stomach.

The door creaked open, and Oranssi came back in. All the dread Roman felt dissipated, replaced by anger. Oranssi closed the distance between them, standing in front of his captive. With a confidence he wasn’t aware he possessed, Roman spoke first.

“What am I doing here?” he challenged. He didn’t care what happened to himself anymore. Oranssi only chuckled.

“I’m sure we can find a use for you,” he grabbed Roman’s cheeks in one hand. “I’ve heard you sing- maybe you’ll do that.” His hand moved lower, grabbing Roman’s neck. “Would you do that for me?” He squeezed.  
\--

Janus wasn’t really paying attention. The pain in his leg was excruciating, and took all his focus. He couldn’t think. Vaguely, he was aware of movement around him, but it was inconsequential. He’d already lost.

When Roman fell unconscious, Oranssi turned to Janus. The apartment was small, and the walls were thin, but no one heard him scream. He was weak, and trapped. It didn’t take long for him to lose consciousness, and when he woke up he was somewhere dark. The compartment was small, so small he barely fit inside. Something tight bound his hands behind his back. They were useless. The whole compartment jostled, knocking his head into something hard, with a soft surface. He strained his senses, desperate to find out where he was. Muffled sounds from the outside wafted in- honking, shouting, the squeal of rubber on gravel. So he was in a car, probably the trunk. He was on his side, bad lug folded carelessly underneath his body. Using the other one, he tried to feel around. The taillight had to be somewhere around here…

The texture changed under his foot. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was smoother, and felt less dense. That had to be the glass covering. Curling his leg in, he sharply kicked out with whatever strength he had left. He heard it crack. Janus kicked a few more times, finally breaking it. Cold, humid air rushed in through the weakened spot. He gritted his teeth and stuck his foot as far out as it would go. If anyone was behind the car, they’d see a brake light missing, and a foot sticking out. That had to be suspicious enough to stop the car, to call for help, to rescue them...

Nothing happened for a while. He was aware of the car making twists and turns, bumping up and down on the uneven road. Waves of nausea came and passed, but still, nothing happened. When the car reached a particularly rough part of the route, and then stopped. Janus held his breath. Was this it? Had someone noticed? Was help finally here?

The trunk door opened, and Oranssi loomed over him. Fuck.

The human body is a funny thing. It can process pain almost everywhere, so long as there’s neurons, but it can’t remember it. True agony is remembered, but not fully. Janus could recall what happened after he’d been discovered, but it wasn’t complete. He’d been tortured, retribution for kicking out the tail light, but he couldn’t quite remember how it stung. Even now, as his leg throbbed with bliding pain, he knew he’d felt worse.

He’d shut down, mentally. Sure, he was lucid, but he just didn’t care. When Oranssi grabbed his out of the trunk, strong hands leaving bruises on his shoulders, he knew it was over. Mentally, he’d receded back into himself, into his broken body. Things happened around him, and perhaps they affected him, but he didn’t notice. He was a living corpse, the husk of a man. He’d lost.  
\--

Logan woke up from a sharp pain. His face stung, and the sound was deafening. The slap left his ears ringing. A blindfold made it all the harder to get his bearings. He was still tied up, the cords tight around his chest and arms. Despite struggling, he was stuck.

“Tell me, Dr. Michanikós,” Oranssi started. His words were measured, but Logan heard something else. Panicked breathing. “What was our agreement?” Logan hesitated. He remembered, but the fear of whatever his answer would lead to stopped the words in his throat.

“I help you, and Roman lives.” He jumped at the sound of something slamming against the ground. Whatever fell groaned. He recognized the sound. It was Roman. Thoughts raced through Logan’s mind. He’d done everything right… why were they here?

“Let him go.” It was supposed to sound like a demand, but it came out like a plea. He heard something loud, and then Roman shout in pain. “Stop it!” Logan tried again, but Oranssi laughed.

“YOU don’t get to make demands.” He was much closer than Logan thought, nearly on top of him. Something hard hit his stomach. He would’ve doubled over, if not for the restraints. Roman yelped, too. His voice was strained. Oranssi leaned in, breath warming Logan’s ear. “Fuck it up again, and I’ll kill you both.”

Logan heard shuffling, and then Roman scream in pain again. His frantic breathing stopped, and Oranssi cracked his fingers. He leaned forward and picked something off the ground. Logan heard his breathing get farther and farther away. 

Fear gripped Logan’s heart. It beat irregularly, and he started to hyperventilate. He was alone. He’d gotten his friend killed. He was going to die. He was worthless. Retreating to some juvenile mentality, he started to scream for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol Oranssi just stopped in the middle of the road. Dumbass  
> I think this is the third time I’ve called Roman sleeping beauty. I have a problem.   
> I saw a game theory about passing out from lack of oxygen (sounds bad but I swear that's just a normal topic for his videos) and it said that once someone’s posture is righted, and they get air again, they wake up really quickly. 
> 
> Spoilers for next chapter: Patton goes apeshit. Frogshit?


	24. Fight or Flight, Am I Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus, Patton, and Virgil save their boyfs! It's the climax, and a chapter with Remus, so there's a LOT of content warnings.
> 
> Content Warnings: Content warnings: body horror, death mention, Christian sin mention, suicide mention, implied self harm mention, dead animals mention, semen mention, swear words, angst, blood (a lot of it), chapter contains fight scenes, drug mentions, death, threats, stabbing, choking, gun mention in the author's note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oranssi has made Patton officially LOSE HIS MARBLES!!!
> 
> It occurred to me yesterday that I never described what Oranssi looks like, aside from being a thick boy. What do y'all invision him as? I always pictured him as a cross between Netflix Daredevil's Kingpin and Into The Spiderverse's Kingpin.
> 
> shout out to wordhippo. This chapter would be so much more repetitive without you
> 
> Wikipedia says that "adrenocorticotropic hormones" are responsible for fear

Patton was usually a safe driver. Remus got the impression that he was a boring rules follower just from the way he dressed, and Virgil had never seen him break a traffic law. Roman occasionally tested him for never going over the speed limit, not even by a few miles, but Logan commended him for it. That’s why it was a surprise when he floored it. The van bumped down the road at a steady 70 miles an hour (30 miles over the limit). His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and every turn nearly toppled the vehicle.

Patton was silent, eyes focused on the road. He didn’t like to feel anger, much less rage. Wrath was a sin, and he always felt bad afterwards. It sat with him and weighed him down. Last time he’d been truly angry, Virgil ran away. It was a just punishment, and he strove to live his life without that icky emotion. When bad things happened, he wanted to resolve them, instead of being vengeful. Tonight was a different story. He wasn’t a possessive man, but the idea of someone hurting his friends, his boyfriend, awoke something primeval. He kept a death grip on the steering wheel and a lead foot on the accelerator.

The high school was several towns over. Remus, Virgil, and Janus had moved as far away as possible from it. The car ride was mostly silent, Virgil in awe of his brother’s driving, and Remus lost in thought. He was trying to not jump to conclusions. Visions of his friends mangled bodies danced through his mind. His brother’s limbs spread across the forest floor, Janus’ cadaver bloated until it was almost unrecognisable. He was resolute to think about something- anything- else, but the images were persistent. Thoughts of how they could still be alive, unharmed and just far away were chased out by other, scarier imaginings. He thought of the forest ablaze, and only finding charred corpses. The car jerked over something uneven on the road. Had they just run over Janus, leaving him as mere roadkill?

“We need a plan.” Virgil’s voice was stabilizing, and snapped Remus back to the present. He nodded his head in agreement, unsure where Virgil was going with this. After he’d identified the substance in the mud, the three had rushed off to save their friends. They were hopelessly outmatched, but Remus thought ahead. He’d sneaked off to Roman’s room, and checked under the bed. Roman believed he was secretive, but he’d used that hiding spot for decades now. Remus had snatched the dagger. Technically, it was his, and he figured they’d need it before the night was over. He’d tried to forget the stained blade- he knew what Roman used it for.

Virgil looked over his shoulder. He had Remus’ attention. He waited for the more creative person to throw anything out, but the twin was stubbornly silent. He couldn’t think of a plan, all he could think of was his brother’s dead body. Virgil sighed, realizing Remus wouldn’t be any help without encouragement.

“Ok. What do we have on our side?” He asked. Patton was still silent, but the van creaked as he pressed forward, even faster. Virgil didn’t want to look at the speedometer. Remus held up the dagger, trying to be helpful. Virgil nodded. That could work. Remus also knew where the shack in the woods was, which was helpful. Less time wasted was less time for his friends to be killed. Virgil glanced at Patton. He was still angry. He’d never seen his brother fight, but the sheer lividity that radiated in waves off his body was inspiring. Virgil went over their arsenal in his mind.

The element of surprise  
Two able bodied fighters  
One knife  
A pissed off boyfriend

He internally groaned. Whomever they were about to fight had a huge advantage over them. Three hostages, enough strength to punch a hole in the wall, knowledge of the terrain, and an able body. This was a suicide mission.  
\--

Patton parked in the highschool parking lot and helped Virgil out of the car. He was trying to cover his fury around the others, but it was futile. Remus could sense it a mile away, and Virgil saw how tense he was. They headed out to the woods, with Remus in the lead. He wasn’t sure how the kidnapper had gotten themself, and three others, through the dense woods so quickly. The trees were thick, and their dense foliage completely blocked out any light. Remus was traveling on instinct. He could get to that stupid shack with a blindfold on. A small part of him wondered if it still looked the same- would his claw marks still decorate the wooden boards? Had the dead animals he’d buried under there fully decomposed yet? Did cum still stain the walls?

He led the group to where the shack should’ve been. The foundations were still on the ground, nailed around thick tree stumps and roots that dared breach the muddy surface. The shack itself was gone, the shoddy and decomposing walls and roof having been ripped from their base and carried off. The others stopped short, looking at the hollow space where their friends should’ve been. Virgil’s heart sank. A small part of him had believed this would be easy, that he could get in and out without a fight. He didn’t think he’d get lost in the woods with his homicidal brother, and the most unhinged man he knew. Whatever shred of hope he’d held onto was destroyed. Patton spoke up, for the first time since the sun set.

“Where else would they be.” He turned to Remus and his brother. Virgil didn’t want to say what he was thinking. They were too late. Patton read his brother’s deliberate lack of a reaction perfectly, and focused on Remus.

“Where are they, Remus.” He growled. Remus shrugged, trying to not say the same thing Virgil was thinking. This was their last option, and it was a bust. Patton closed the distance between them, balling the front on Remus’ shirt in a fist. “WHERE ARE THEY!” He shouted, desperate for an answer. Virgil tried to intervene, but Patton pushed him back. This was personal. Remus tried to back away, but he was trapped.

“We trusted you,” Patton hissed, gritted teeth just barely holding back his wrath. He’d never liked Remus, and this was the breaking point. He started moving forward, taking Remus backwards. His back scraped against a tree, but Patton wouldn’t let up. 

“Tell me where he is!” he demanded, trapping his victim. Remus tried to explain that he didn’t know, but Patton wouldn’t have it. He pushed Remus into the tree, harder. Virgil tried to intervene again, but it was no use.

Remus raised his hands in defeat, signaling that he couldn’t answer Patton’s question. It didn’t help, and Patton opened his mouth to shout more. He was desperate.

Something distant cut off whatever he was going to say. It was muffled by sound, and the ambiance of the forest, but each man heard it. It came from their right. The trees there were a little less dense, as if they’d been cut down to make a path. The three were silent, listening for the sound again. Sure enough, it sounded twice, the second time louder. 

It was a scream for help.  
\--

Logan hadn’t screamed for long when he heard the door open again. Heavy footfalls approached, before shoving something in his mouth. The gag worked, and he felt another stinging smack on his cheek. He’d caused too much trouble. He didn’t hear Oranssi leave, but he felt that he was alone. The gag was more effective than Logan thought, stifling a sob. He was going to die. He’d gotten his friends killed, and now he was going to die. No one would ever know where they were. Their bodies would never be found. Patton and Virgil would never find them.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed. He tried to count his breathing, but it was unreliable. He was totally alone. The world folded in on itself, and the sensory deprivation was too much. All he could feel was the chair underneath him, and the cording that tied him to it. Otherwise, he floated in a void, cold and hungry. Overwhelming dread slowly warped into depression. He was coming to terms with the new reality. Another tear rolled down his cheek, starkly warm. He didn’t realize how tired he was. Exhaustion tugged at his eyes and shaking legs. He was still scared, but a cool indifference claimed his body. He couldn’t fall asleep, the adrenaline in his system wouldn’t allow it, but an existential drowsiness grew in the corners of his mind.  
\--

The three men were running blindly. Patton had taken the lead, calling out to whomever made the sound. He was significantly faster than Virgil and Remus, who were more intent on sticking together. It was all too easy to get lost in this forest, and the occasional animal growl was terrifying.

Patton reached it first. A large wooden structure, clearly built off the skeleton of a shack. The walls were nailed together in all different directions, and the wood was warped and cracked, but it was a sturdy building. He waited for the others to follow, and tried to catch his breath. His legs shook from the effort, and he realized he’d run the whole way here. It had to be at least a mile, but he didn’t care. There was a very real chance his friends were in there, and nothing could stop him. He cast a glance behind him, locking eyes with Virgil and Remus. They were ready.

Patton tried the door. It was locked. No matter- he’d seen people do this on TV shows before- how hard could it be? He raised a leg and kicked as hard as he could. The door remained shut, but something behind it made a noise. He tried again, balling his fists in anger. He’d driven through four towns at lethal speeds and run a mile straight to get here- a door would not keep him from Logan.

He kicked the door in, knocking the whole thing off its hinges. It clattered to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the dark contents inside. There was a single room, with two doors on either side. The one on the left had an intricate looking lock, and the one on the right was held shut with climbing rope. Remus went to work on it, snapping the elastic cables with his dagger. Patton pressed on the door, letting it creak open. He entered, alone.

Logan sat alone in the room, bound, blindfolded, and gagged. He’d tensed when the door opened, and shook slightly. Patton tried to approach slowly, with light and even footsteps. He fell to his knees and unwrapped the blindfold from Logan’s eyes. They were squeezed shut in fear, but opened when Patton removed the gag. They looked at each other for a moment, the shared relief bringing tears to their eyes. Patton laughed, tenderly holding Logan’s cheeks and kissing him. Patton reached around and tried to undo whatever knots held his boyfriend down. They were complex, but eventually he untied them. As soon as he could, Logan wrapped his arms around Patton, ignoring the soreness. Patton pulled away from the kiss first, taking a moment to take in Logan’s face. It was red on one side- his kidnapper must’ve hurt him. Rage boiled in Patton’s stomach as he remembered how helpless and scared his boyfriend looked mere moments ago. 

“Are you ok?” he whispered. Logan nodded, wiping away tears. He went in for another kiss, washing away the fears that he’d never see his family again. Help had come for him.  
\--

Remus and Virgil were working on the other door. The lock was heavy duty, but they wouldn’t be denied. They both had experience, and cracked it easily. Whereas Patton had been delicate when opening the door behind them, Remus barged through it, desperate to see whatever was on the other side.

The first thing he noticed was Roman. The brother was tied up, lying prone. Remus couldn’t see his face, but he did see the blood. He was breathing, though it sounded laborious and pained. Next to him was Janus, sitting on the ground. He wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, eyes glazed over with a hollow stare. Remus recognised the look. He ran to his roommate, sinking to his knees and grabbing Janus’ shoulders. He shook as hard as he could, trying to break his friend from the trance. Virgil entered seconds later, rushing to Roman and muttering something under his breath.

Roman turned slowly, rolling onto his back with a heavy sigh. Blood flowed down the side of his face. He was disoriented, unfocused eyes staring at the ceiling before making their way to Virgil. A small smile fought its way across his face. He was still dazed, and his voice was hoarse, but a laugh escaped him nonetheless. Virgil took the dagger from Remus and cut Roman free. Roman tried to sit up, wiping away the grime on his face. The cut was around his hairline, and continued to bleed. He leaned in to hug Virgil, enjoying the warmth his body exuded. They were still for a moment, living in shared happiness. Roman knew he wasn’t, but in Virgil’s arms he felt safe.

Janus was pulled back to reality by Remus. They were quiet, assessing the other quickly. Remus took back the knife and freed Janus’ hands, holding them in his own. Janus’ fingers were cold and purple- the binds had cut off circulation. Remus tried to warm them with his breath, leaning into his friend for support. They sat together, reflecting. Remus hadn’t realized how sure he was that his friends had died until Janus wiped away a tear with his thumb. Remus wrapped his arms around Janus’ back, and kept moving closer until he was nearly on top of his friend. Nothing was good enough, he wasn’t close enough, he had to be sure this was Janus, that he was alive and breathing. He checked his friend’s pulse, and breathed out in relief. This was real.

Patton and Logan joined them shortly. Patton ran to check on Roman, mind racing when he saw the blood. He insisted on checking the wound, hands all over Roman’s face. He felt the welt appearing on his cheek and suppressed another pang of rage. Logan ran to where Janus and Remus were entangled, thankful his friends were still alive. He’d been so sure they were killed, he spent a while just staring at Janus. There weren’t many visible external wounds but he still looked hurt. The damage had to be internal.

Patton spoke first, calling the attention of five others with his clear voice.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Remus helped Janus up. His leg shook violently, and he didn’t have much to lean on. After deciding a single arm around Janus’ back wouldn’t do, he lifted the lawyer bridal style. They could move faster this way, and the weight of his friend was a constant reminder that he was still alive. Roman stood up, leaning on Virgil’s wheelchair for support. He was woozy, and stumbled a few times, but made it out of the shack on two feet. Logan leaned on Patton, legs sore from being tied up for so long. He hooked one arm around his boyfriend’s ribcage, squeezing for extra support. All six left the room, passing a folded up table and broken chemistry equipment.

The sun was still rising, but illuminated the forest enough to get by. The trees did their best to block out the light, dense leaves absorbing as much sunlight as possible, but patches of bright light splashed against their trunks, creating a glowing maze. Patton, Virgil, and Remus remembered where the shack’s foundations were, and could find their way to the van from there. They walked in silence, taking in the victorious freedom. They’d escaped.  
\--

They had gotten pretty far, maybe a mile, when it happened. Logan heard it first, adrenaline still fueling his system and causing him to be hyperalert. There was another sound, close behind. It was heavy, but quiet- calculated, like a predator. They were being followed. Fear trickled down his spine as he realized what was following them. He tried to speak up, but was interrupted first by a deafening roar.

Janus saw him first. He had noticed when Logan’s posture went rigid, and came to the same conclusion. He’d looked over Remus’ shoulder, and saw an orange glint. Oranssi. He bellowed, and then all hell broke loose. Motivated by terror, they all scattered, running in different directions before they realized where they were going. At some point Remus had set him down, and Janus took off where he thought he saw someone else. He didn’t dare risk calling out, alerting Oranssi to where his prey was, and relied on sight alone. He followed what he thought was a person, limping slightly around sharp turns.

To his surprise, and dismay, he ran into Virgil. They’d stopped when the sounds of chaos were too distant to discern. Janus regarded his friend cooly, hiding how relieved he was that he’d at least caught up to someone. Even if that person was wheelchair bound. Virgil was breathing slowly, simultaneously trying to fight off a panic attack and make as little noise as possible. He met Janus’ eyes with fear, relief, and then disappointment. The two least capable people were completely alone. They both looked around for a moment, trying to figure out if they were followed by anyone else. When no one appeared, Janus spoke up.

“We need to get out of here.”  
\--

Patton started running first, taking Logan with him. They sprinted in a blind panic, darting around trees as quickly as possible. Whatever soreness had festered in their bodies was chased out. The forest created a unique type of tunnel vision, with light being Patton’s only indication of where they were going. He finally slowed down after his lungs burned, unable to supply his body with enough air. He didn’t hear anyone behind them, and sighed in relief. Logan still looked shaken, holding his boyfriend’s hand in a vice grip. He hadn’t even realized that’s how he’d dragged Logan along, until he tried to extricate his own hand. Logan wouldn’t allow it, and pulled it closer. He was gasping for air, resting against a thick tree trunk.  
\--

Remus had grabbed Roman by the arm and took off. They were the fastest of the group. Remus was leading Roman through a maze that only he understood. Roman grew more lost with every curve and bend. The idea was to confuse any followers, but the trees only grew thicker as Remus navigated the forest. When they stopped, Roman was completely lost. The cut on his head stung, and he wiped sweat away from it. His cracked ribs cried out, punishing him for breathing so deeply. Remus turned wildly, checking their surroundings. He knew where they were and was making sure no one else knew. He swung the dagger, trying to scare off any predators.

“Gimme that,” Roman panted. Remus was holding it incorrectly, and it would fall any second now. Remus obliged, dropping the hilt in Roman’s outstretched palm. He grabbed a sizable branch from the ground, and swung that a few times. It was off balance, but Remus could make it work. They were quiet for a moment, looking up at the trees. Light spilled in between the cracks in the leafy cover, illuminating the ground and trees around them. The trees themselves were dense and thick, branches weaving around each other. The trunks formed walls in some places, too close to squeeze through. If anyone was going to attack, they had only a few options. Something close rustled. Roman walked towards the center of the space, not wanting to corner himself. Remus followed, back to back, ready. They waited. The sound of their breathing was thunderous. Remus gripped the branch tighter. Roman raised his hands defensively. Nothing. The forest was still. Silence. They were surrounded. 

Oranssi came at Remus first. He was fast, but his target was ready. Remus raised the branch above his head, swinging it down with formidable strength. It snapped, the sound ringing out across the whole forest. As soon as he came, Oranssi backed up, getting a better view of the twins. He lunged again, hitting Remus’ middle. Roman crouched slightly, redirecting the force off himself. Remus’ feet left the ground, but he was supported by his brother. He kicked out violently, connecting with Oranssi’s chest. The attacker stumbled backwards as Remus landed on his feet. His weapon was smaller now, but he attacked nonetheless. Readjusting his grip on the branch, he held it like a baton, blocking a wild punch from Oranssi. The larger man sidestepped, reaching out for Roman. Roman was ready, blocking the blow with his own weapon. It drew blood but Oranssi didn’t flinch. He lunged for another attack, springing forward with surprising speed and knocking Roman off balance. They tumbled to the ground, and Roman yelped in pain. Oranssi was on top of him, legs straddling Roman’s middle. He tried to block another punch, again cutting his attacker’s arm. Oranssi hit a few times, disorienting Roman. The searing pain in his chest was distracting. He swung with the knife, feeling himself make contact. Oranssi didn’t let up. Remus had backed away several feet, but charged with a fury. He bellowed, tackling the man off his brother. Roman coughed a few times, taking deep breaths in the brief respite. Remus rolled a few times, scratching and biting whatever skin he could reach. Oranssi was on his back, and launched Remus off him. Remus landed on his back, several feet away. He got up quickly, but Oranssi was gone. Roman lay still, trying to stabilize himself. His head was still stung, but that’s not what he was focused on.

Roman was looking at the dagger on the ground near his hand, drenched in blood.  
\--

Patton and Logan started moving again, after a few minutes. Logan didn’t know the woods very well, but Patton had paid attention when Remus led them. It looked different during the day, but he recognised enough landmarks to get through. They walked at a brisk pace, trying to look for others. Their current plan was to head back to the van, and call for help. Logan had explained that Janus, Roman, and he believed Oranssi had a friend on the police force, which made calling for help too risky. Patton still led them towards the van. He’d feel much better once his boyfriend was safe. He could venture out and look for Virgil, if they didn’t meet on the way back. Virgil was smart, he’d know to head for the van. He also trusted that Roman would try to get there, or Remus could lead him.

The trees were getting thinner. It was a good sign- that meant they were approaching the edge of the forest. The younger trees were by the highschool field. The ground was more uneven, with thick, knotted roots and twigs littering the terrain. Patton remembered that the school wanted to expand, and had tried to renovate the forest. Nature wouldn’t have it, and the only remains of the failure were in the lopsided terrain, which was dug up before the project ran out of funding. Topsoil hadn’t returned, but the rain and mud cemented the foliage in place. The two men picked their way around the sticks, careful to be as quiet as possible. Every snap of a twig made them jump, every unnecessary sound put them on edge. They’d gotten fairly far when something loud made them stop in their tracks. Logan’s body went rigid, and Patton looked around. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but remained still nonetheless. The leaves rustled in a soft breeze. The ground crunched under his weight. The trees loomed. A chill went down his back. Everything was quiet.

Oranssi pounced, materializing too quickly for Patton to track. He tackled Logan to the ground, impressive force taking them both down. The world went red. The wrath he’d been repressing boiled, and fury took over. Patton grabbed Oranssi by the neck, forcing him into a chokehold. He squeezed as hard as he could, leaning back. Oranssi fell off Logan, stumbling backwards. Patton was nimble on his feet, dodging the larger man’s fall and getting in between him and his victim. Patton cracked his knuckles. Oranssi smilled, one hand clutching his side. Some blood spilled from in between his fingers, but it didn’t matter. He prepared to charge, but Patton was ready. He took off, landing his knee under the attacker’s ribcage. He felt the larger man gasp, but he didn’t care. Pumping his fists, Patton tested a few punches, striking Oranssi twice before he threw up a block. He used the block to his advantage, hitting where the arm wasn’t protecting. Oranssi kicked out, and Patton landed on the ground, hard. Without a second thought, he wrenched something from the mud beside him and stabbed Oranssi with it. The stick cracked under pressure, but it was enough. Oranssi kept his attention on Patton, who scrambled to his feet. Oranssi lunged again, and Patton dodged. He threw another punch at Oranssi’s stomach. It landed, and he was thrown off balance. Patton lept on him. Oranssi tried to dodge, rolling back and forth. He threw Patton off, and tried to get to his feet. Patton landed close by, clutching Oranssi’s arm. As the attacker got up, he lifted Patton to his feet. He reared back for another punch, but stopped. Oranssi was standing over Logan, leg raised. Before the inevitable curb stomp, Patton roared. He charged, shoulder colliding with his opponent’s chest. Oranssi fell, center of balance knocked out, but scrambled. Before Patton could get his bearings, he was gone.

Patton stood up slowly, the adrenaline giving way to full body pain. His body shook from effort. Logan got to his feet too, eyes wide. He grabbed one of Patton’s hands and examined it, speechless. His knuckles were red with blood, but it wasn’t his own.

“Are you ok?” Patton asked, examining his boyfriend’s face. At some point during the fight, his glasses cracked. Several Logans looked back up in amazement.  
\--

Janus stumbled across the forest. Virgil had offered help, seeing his friend shudder in pain, but was refused. Janus leaned against the trees for support. Virgil rolled his eyes and kept leading him forward. The van wouldn’t be too far away. He hoped the others were smart enough to get back there. He glanced around. Janus was behind him, grimacing. His leg was useless, but he limped on it anyways. 

“Jan. Let me help you.” Janus glared back. Virgil didn’t give in this time. “We’ll get out of here faster if you just lean on me.” They were quiet for a moment, before Janus nodded his head. He must’ve been in true agony, to accept help. They started moving again, together. Pillars of trees loomed above them, but Virgil knew a short cut. They navigated around a few trees, stumbling across particularly difficult terrain, but eventually made it. The tree trunks were thinner- they were so close to being free.

“Virgil?” Janus asked. His voice was small, almost inaudible over the forest’s natural sounds. Virgil stopped in his tracks, but was pushed forward. He tried to think of what to say in response, to let his friend know he was listening, but Janus continued.

“I’m sorry,” he started. His voice was rough. He cleared his throat, coughing a few times. “For everything.”

Virgil tried to process the revelation. This was the closest Janus had ever come to a real apology. His tone was devoid of its usual sarcasm, and sounded as weak as he looked. Virgil nodded his head. Knowing Jan, he wouldn’t want some grand apology or even an honest conversation. Virgil tried to keep silent. The apology was vague, but maybe that’s why he liked it. There wasn’t time to list all the things he should apologize for, and there certainly wasn’t time to negotiate exactly what they were. He just wanted to get it off his chest, and had. Virgil’s voice was equally quiet, but he was sure his friend heard him.

“I forgive you.”  
\--

They made it out of the forest relatively unharmed. Twigs nipped at their legs, and Janus had fallen more than once before accepting Virgil’s help, but they were finally free. They made their way across the field, towards the high school. Remus had promised to burn it down, several times, but the bricks still stood. They were covered in ashes, but remained firm. Janus had never been more happy to see one of his friends fail. There were a few cameras posted around the building, but they were switched off. The school didn’t watch them during the summer. The van was parked over a few spots, making Virgil laugh. He remembered Patton’s insane driving, and complete disregard for the law on their way here. No doubt, now that they were all together, he’d feel bad about it. 

Janus and Virgil made it out first. They waited by the van patiently, letting Janus’ apology sit between them. What was done was done. Roman and Remus came out second, running. Remus was partially carrying his twin, who was still bleeding. Virgil insisted that Roman sit in the van and rest. His boyfriend put up a fight, insisting through pained wheezes that he was fine. Remus explained what had happened in the forest, showing the knife as proof. The blood was drying, a deep maroon color covering the whole blade. Roman wasn’t sure when in the fight he’d stabbed Oranssi, or where. He also wasn’t sure where Oranssi was. The way he’d just run off, as if their fight hadn’t happened, was concerning. Janus explained that he was on a powerful steroid, which possibly blocked his pain receptors and Remus thought it over. Roman shook his head.

“He said Logan fucked it up.” He was still woozy, and deductive reasoning had never been a talent. “How? He seemed impervious to pain, and certainly stronger than normal.” Virgil jumped in.

“Maybe it’s a tolerance problem? If he’s used to the drug, then it could still be affecting him, but he wouldn’t feel it.” Janus nodded.

“And if he didn’t feel the drug like he remembered, he’d be angry.” He gestured towards Roman. They all got the point, without him saying. He would be angry enough to kill.

Patton and Logan came out last. They looked worse for wear, stumbling out of the forest. Patton’s glasses were cracked, and Logan’s arm was bleeding. When they reached the van, they were panting. Breathless, Logan tried to explain what had happened: Oranssi jumped them. Apparently Patton had fought him off. At first, no one believed it, but the cracked frames, tremor in his legs, and blood on his knuckles changed their minds. Patton tried to laugh it off and downplay his aggression, claiming he didn’t really remember what happened and Logan couldn’t see all that well. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, attempting to appear as non threatening as possible. Remus laughed heartily, and clapped a hand against Patton’s shoulder. It was a surprising discovery, but exciting. He joked about bringing out this animalistic side out more and testing to see if Logan was dating a werewolf or not. The tension in the air slowly lifted. The longer they were away from that wretched shack, the safer each man felt. Soon Roman joined in, making jests at his friend’s expense. 

They were all too distracted. No one saw him leave the forest. No one saw him advancing, steadily, like a zombie. No one heard his breathing, strained but regular. No one saw the predator stalk forward, his prey all in one spot. No one saw, until it was too late.

Oranssi lunged forward, grabbing Roman around the waist. He’d targeted the weakest member in sight. They landed on the ground hard, Oranssi’s whole weight keeping Roman down. The others tensed, but it was useless. He had a hostage now. He punched his victim a few times, revenge for stabbing him. He laughed, deeply.

“I said I’d kill you,” he promised, placing one hand over Roman’s throat. He pressed hard, watching his prey writhe. “And now I’m going to.”

The others tried to intervene, but hopeless. Oranssi shrugged off whatever they hit him with, immune to pain. He squeezed harder, feeling his victim’s struggling get weaker. Not long now. Something agonizing cut through his haze, and Oranssi roared. He reared back, releasing Romans throat. He whirled around to see Virgil, bloody knife in hand. Oranssi’ back throbbed from where the dagger had plunged. He started to move forward, and Virgil started to panic. He tried to dodge, but it was too late. Oranssi threw him to the ground. He fell out of the wheelchair as terror set in. He tried to crawl away, but was too slow. Oranssi kicked him in the stomach, adn Virgil cried out in pain. 

Janus stood over his friend defensively. Oranssi chuckled, and attacked again. He tackled the lawyer to the ground, narrowly missing Virgil. He had the smaller man pinned down, when something sharp cut him off. Janus drove the dagger deep into his chest, using all his remaining strength. Oranssi coughed, some blood spilling onto his lip. Janus took the knife out and plunged it back in, adrenaline and adrenocorticotropic hormones coursing through his blood. His movements were sharp, and his grip on the hilt was stiff. Logan pulled the dying body off his friend, as Patton helped his brother back into his wheelchair. Remus was sitting with Roman, taking him through different breathing exercises. 

Silently, they all packed into the van. Remus called the authorities, while Janus took pictures on his phone. This would serve as good evidence, since the parking lot cameras were off. They left the body where it lay. No one could bring themselves to touch it after Logan had heaved it off Janus. The ride took hours, now that Patton was driving the speed limit. They stopped at a drive through, since it had been a full day since any of them had eaten. The car was still silent, as the realization of their day settled in. They’d been kidnapped. They’d been attacked. They’d helped kill someone.

When they got back to the apartment, it was still trashed. Janus and Remus opted to sleep with the others, in the common area. It was a restless night, as visions of the past 24 hours danced through each man’s mind. They all found themselves wandering in and out of various rooms, making meaningless small talk. The sun had gone down hours ago. The six were gathered in the common area, blankets and pillows bought out en masse. Virgil opened his laptop and fired up a movie, while Patton stress baked. Thomas purred happily (he’d stayed with a neighbor that day) on Logan’s lap, while still weary of Remus. Things would get better, go back to normal, but not that night. Roman checked the time. 2 AM. Time for a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morality voice: Logan, drink your tacos. I'm about to kill a man.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fb57plzuCi0   
> The video is about 15 minutes long, but it's one of my favorite youtube videos ever. The funniest part starts at 3:59, but the bit that has me in STITCHES is 6:32-7:36
> 
> I made a point of having roman’s broken ribs be a problem but the second he’s back to back with Remus i forgot about them oop
> 
> Tera_byte thought Virge or Pat were packing heat. That was actually really close to the original plan for this chapter! Virgil was going to shoot Oranssi with his own gun. I changed it to Janus stabbing him with Remus knife because I had already established the weapon (checkov's dagger?) and Janus already has a body count.
> 
> The next, and final, chapter will serve as an epilogue. The boys are healing! The hardest stuff is over!


	25. Epilouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sides all meet up in a coffee shop to discuss how they're doing one month after... last chapter. 
> 
> Content warnings: death mention, blood mention, police mentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! The ending! 
> 
> The time frame switches A LOT in this chapter. If you're confused by any of it feel free to tell me in the comments. I understand that sometimes when I write, only I can decipher whatever the heck I said.

Logan got to the shop early. He was a punctual person, and sat down in a corner booth. The afternoon rush was on its way out, but diners still filled almost every seat. The walls were windows, and sunlight filled the coffee shop eagerly. The heat was gentle that day, low humidity and a light breeze creating a warm hug around anyone lucky enough to be outside. Logan closed his eyes and tried to take in the moment. He rarely got quiet moments anymore, and this one was perfect.

Patton arrived a few minutes later. He wore a cheery smile and new glasses. The frames were rounder than the others, and Logan was still trying to get used to them. Patton took a seat right next to the other occupant, despite the ample room. This was the new normal. Ever since the…. accident, Patton took every opportunity to attack himself to his boyfriend. Truthfully, Logan didn’t mind, and having someone to lean against was comforting.

Janus was right on Patton’s heels. He sat across from the others, reveling in the space. He liked basking in the sunlight, and this window spot was exquisite. He struck up a dull conversation, trying to be polite. Patton answered all questions enthusiastically, waving his hands in large gestures. Logan was more restrained in his responses, but still energetic. He’d never seen Janus socialize unless prompted by others. He liked talking to the lawyer- his rational perspectives were excessively pessimistic, but he was more realistic than his roommates’ were.

Virgil showed up next. He tried to hide a shy smile when Patton seamlessly brought him into the conversation. He was still acclimating to talking to Janus, but this conversation was good practice. There were no stakes, and Patton hooked an arm around his brother’s shoulders. He would never admit it, but he loved the sweet gesture.

Roman was second to last, opening the shop doors in a single, grand swing. He sauntered to the table and inserted himself into the conversation. He sat next to Virgil, using the cover of the table to hold hands. He spoke with bravado, masking any and all traces of the traumatic event he’d suffered only a month ago.

Remus came in last, surprising no one. He looked healthier, and a soft, yet devious, smile curled his lips. He joined the small talk just like Roman had- with grandeur. He was thriving in the sun, feeding off his friend’s pleasant energy. A waiter passed by, and each ordered some form of coffee before continuing talking.

“So, Remus,” Patton ventured, “what’re you up to nowadays?” Virgil and Janus tried to hide their surprise. Patton didn’t like Remus, and would never willingly start a conversation with the guy. They exchanged confused looks before Remus answered happily.

“Oh! I talked with a publisher a few hours ago. They’re seriously considering it!” It was no secret what he was working on. The pages of his graphic novel littered his apartment, and most of the men present had read it over before he sent it off. It was a neat little horror story about coming out and homophobic zombies. Remus was incredibly proud of it, and his art was occasionally splendid.  
\--

The police weren’t exactly overjoyed when Remus made the call. The van bumped along the road steadily, precisely at 40 miles an hour. His voice jumped in pitch a few times as his body tried to compensate for the stress it had endured minutes ago. He had to ask about the exact location (apparently “in the parking lot by my shitty highschool” was not an adequate description of where Oranssi’s dead body lay), but otherwise relayed the details alone. The van had three rows of seats, and he was sitting at the very back. Janus was resting against his shoulder, eerily silent.

Remus had tried to answer the police questions. Really. They were just so… specific, and the matter was too messy. The investigators moved too slowly, and his mind wandered when giving answers. The events of the night were fresh in his mind, but his version was… contradictory to the others’. It wasn’t incorrect, but he couldn't help but inject his own thoughts into the narrative. The police dismissed him and never called back. Good, he had other things to work on. The news didn’t want to interview him (a local porn star didn’t make for a good interviewee on Florida’s most watched channels), but his notoriety in his own industry blossomed. Stories of his involvement were exaggerated, but it brought new opportunities his way. Remus rarely had a day off, with so many job proposals. He was busy, but he was thriving.  
\--

“What about you, Nerdy Wolverine? Got anything you’d like to share with the class?” Remus teased. Logan cleared his throat and smiled.

“I’ve received quite a few research grants, but I think I want to teach.” His answer was honest, if disappointing.  
\--

He sat in the passenger’s seat again. Logan had sat here many times before, but it was different today. His chest still hurt. He remembered waking up hours ago, tried to the seat. Logan flexed his aching wrists a few times, making sure they were free. He could move as much as he wanted. The van was mostly silent, except for Remus talking in the very back. The air conditioner buzzed, but it was white noise. He tried to process the past 24 hours. So much had happened in such a short amount of time.

Investigators didn’t like working with him. Logan knew a few of them, from working on the Oranssi Case, and their guilt was palpable. They’d all kept a secret from him which resulted in the most traumatic experience of his life. Logan didn’t like working with them either, and was all too happy to submit a written testimony and be done with it. The local news loved him. A young PhD student made for great optics, and his calm demeanor was an added bonus. He did his best to dodge them but it was difficult. Hundreds of different chemistry organizations had contacted him that week. He’d gotten on the news, and the fame chased him into his personal life, too. The proposals were intriguing, but overwhelming. He had to write rejections to most. Two had piqued his interest, but there was something else he wanted to pursue. The University had accepted his request to interview. Logan already had experience as a TA, and securing a job as professor wouldn’t be too out of reach.

He was also seeing a therapist. After a few restless nights, punctuated by nightmares, he called up Emile, and asked for help. Emile wasn’t the therapist himself, but recommended a few others. Talking through his issues with a neutral party was useful. He could finally sleep at night, one arm wrapped around Patton. The extra warmth was reassuring. He wasn’t alone.  
\--

Patton squeezed Logan’s arm supportively. Obviously he would’ve endorsed whatever Logan chose to do, but his job with the University meant he wouldn’t move out of state. A lot of those research proposals were outside Florida, taking Logan away for years at a time. 

Logan looked down at his arm, and rested his head on Patton’s shoulder. The conversation lulled as everyone turned to look at the baker. Patton flushed with embarrassment before speaking.

“I haven’t been doing anything special!” He explained, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, I guess I got promoted…”  
\--

Patton drove home carefully. He’d broken more than a few traffic laws on his way over, and needed to start making up for it. His knuckles were still white on the steering wheel, but he didn’t grip it with the same intensity from earlier that night. Patton’s eyes flickered every which way, checking the road in front of him, checking rear view mirrors before and after turns, checking on Virgil’s friends in the back, checking on his brother and best friend, checking on his boyfriend. They all looked worse for wear. There had been a first aid kit in the glove compartment, which Virigl was now distributing to the others. 

The investigators were suspicious when they saw the broken glasses and bloody knuckles. He was compliant, within reason. Patton just wanted this to be over, and if that meant working with the authorities, then he’d do just that. The local news interviewed him too, but were more interested in whatever Logan had to say. Patton had accidentally mentioned where he worked, Moralitea, live on air. The bakery’s business spiked that week, and Patton was promoted several days later.

Logan had woken up intermittently during the night. Patton called Emile, wondering about the best way to handle the situation. Logan refused to say what was scaring him, and Patton didn’t want to press. Honestly, he was working through a few issues of his own. The image of Logan tied up, terrified and helpless, haunted him. Patton was touchier than usual, holding hands during the day or intertwining their legs at night. Thomas had noticed but only meowed his assent. Having two owners home, in the same place, was fun for him.   
\--

“Don’t be so modest,” Janus teased. He sat up a little straighter. “I, for one, got a raise.” He legally couldn’t disclose more, but it was good news. The sun shone against his back, casting a slender shadow across the table. He hadn’t come in with a cane, but was saving for another. Roman and Oranssi had thoroughly broken his last one, and it was time he got a better one.  
\--

Janus insisted on taking pictures before the others got in the car. It was valuable evidence, since his phone would log the time, date, and location of the photos. He was most concerned about Roman and Logan, who could sue the state for negligence with him and get their medical bills paid off. He was sitting in the back of the car when it took off at mediocre speed.

Janus leaned against his friend, exhausted. Remus’ shoulder wasn’t comfy, but his body heat was nice. Remus talked on the phone to the police, and parts of the conversation weaved into Janus’ mind. He was thinking about the future, trying to work out what would happen next.

Investigators would think Patton was responsible first. A lot of clues could be manipulated to point at him. However, when they finished the DNA analysis on Remus’ dagger, they’d find Virgil’s and his finger prints on the murder weapon itself. Janus had acted in self defense, and all witnesses had seen it. This would destroy his reputation in the department, but that was of little consequence. The local news had tried to interview him, but he refused. This was not the type of notoriety he wanted. Ambition dedicated that he become the head of the law firm through diligent work and exemplary performance, not pity and sympathy from others. 

Somehow, he kept his job. They had to drop the case, as a conflict of interest, but he was compensated for his trauma with a little extra cash. The raise wasn’t much, clearly recommended by Human Resources, but he accepted it regardless. He’d agreed to testify in the Oranssi Case, so long as someone else from the group also agreed. The trial date was fast approaching, and he’d found himself in an awkward position. As Janus’ anxieties increased, he called Virgil for help. Virgil had obliged, and they started to rebuild the friendship he’d destroyed a few months ago.  
\--

“And yet you’re still short,” Roman teased. Janus hissed playfully, casting a wicked glance at the singer. Roman shrugged it off, laughing. Under the table, he intertwined his fingers with Virgil’s.

“Virgil got a real job!” He proclaimed. Virgil sputtered for a moment, the group’s attention shifting to him alone. He shot a spiteful look towards his boyfriend before explaining. There would be payback- he was already scheming it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I got a job,” Virgil repeated, shrugging. Patton and Logan already knew this, but listened to him nonetheless.  
\--

Virgil snatched the first aid kit from Logan’s hands. The van jostled every now and then, but his hands were steady. Roman lay across most of the seats, silent as Virgil tended to his wounds. Tacky, neon band aids covered his cut, while he tried to rub an anti swelling agent to Roman’s cheek. It was red and fully puffed out, displaying Oranssi’s rage. His neck was tender, and he wouldn’t let Virgil apply anything to it.

The investigators dismissed Virgil outright, more interested in his brother. He knew it was the wheelchair’s fault. Even after the dagger’s fingerprint evidence came back, he was questioned once. Reporters didn’t ask to interview him, but he was glad. The idea of talking on TV, where people he didn’t know would judge, was terrifying. 

He’d changed his schedule again. Now he saw Dr. Shell once a week. They didn’t talk about what happened unless Virgil brought it up first. The therapist was very patient, more invested in Virgil’s mental health than mental traumas. It had affected him, and his medication switched names and dosages. He was still trying to take Dr. Shell’s advice, getting sunlight and breaks regularly, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something radical to base his life around, something bigger than the Oranssi problem. It was his idea to get a job outside the house, and the therapist loved it. He was hired quickly, a combination of his disability and current fame securing the position as his. Virgil was technically overqualified, but the repetitive nature of going to work was nice. Roman sometimes walked him there, on quiet mornings.  
\--

“It’s not much different from what I normally do, but it’s outside.” Virgil muttered. He would’ve jabbed an elbow into Roman’s side, were it not still black and blue. Roman laughed gleefully, recognising the desire in his boyfriend’s eyes. He knew payback was coming. He’d do the dishes for a week, at most. 

“It’s a big change. You must celebrate those!” Roman insisted, nuding Virgil’s shoulder with his own. “You all know how I’m doing,” he sang, trying to throw the attention off himself.  
\--

Roman was the most hurt. Undeniably. He lay across several seats in the van, trying to steady his breathing. Virgil was placing bandaids over the cut which refused to stop bleeding. His whole body ached, reprimanding him for the past day. His ribs were searing, since the last fight had been particularly rough on them. He was sure a few were cracked from the scuffle in the apartment, but who knows what happened after that. He’d been thrown down, pinned by Oranssi’s own body weight, several times. That had to fracture something. His neck throbbed dully. It would bruise soon, and he dreaded the day. 

Investigators wanted to talk to him a lot. As the primary victim, his testimony was the most damning, and revealed the most about what happened. He tried to answer every question honestly, ignoring the pain in his chest. He couldn’t afford to go to a hospital right now. News networks had interviewed him a few times, but never aired them. The truth wasn’t suitable to the general public, and his beaten face didn’t look good on camera. He’d agreed to testify during the Oranssi trial.

Roman didn’t want to sleep. Virgil caught onto it first, but didn’t say much. He knew what Roman was doing. He was afraid to sleep, scared he’d wake up back in that horrible shack. Nightmares caught up with him whenever he dreamt. He was suffering. Virgil recommended he find a therapist, and even offered to pay for it. Roman turned it down. Janus said had roped him into suing the state for what happened, and expected a large settlement. He finally visited a doctor, who gave him pain medication and other treatments for his body. Oranssi had done more than Roman thought, and he came back with a laundry list of Don'ts from the clinic. He had a minor concussion, but still had to follow all the rules if he ever hoped to heal.

Roman found several psychiatrists. A few didn’t work, but the fourth one was a nice match. She took their meetings slowly, letting Roman set the pace of each consultation, and decide what they would talk about. His anxiety was easing up, and got a depression med script. It was a lot to take in all at once, but Virgil helped. He was always there, to comfort at night, to decipher medical notes about cranial fractures, to take care of Thomas when Roman couldn’t.  
\--

Each man sipped their drink in silence, enjoying the flavor. Janus’ black coffee was enjoyably bitter, Remus’ espresso was terrifyingly energetic, Logan’s tea was gently warm, Patton’s hot chocolate was delightfully sweet, Virgil’s coffee was calmingly smooth, and Roman’s coffee was sharply gay. They looked at each other, sitting quietly. Words couldn’t describe the feeling. It still hurt, the event’s effects still haunted each person, but it was better.

They were safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I've never written a fic this long before, it was fun! Not sure if I'll write other Sanders Sides stuff. I got some ideas tossing in my mind, but I might take a break after this. I tried to write everyday (except for weekends) and that was really difficult.
> 
> MY GOSH this fic changed so much. I came up with the original idea back in 2019, after DWIT. It wasn't even a Human AU at that point! It was supposed to be about Remus pushing Virgil off a roof at a party. That idea spiraled until every side was somehow involved. This May, Thomas not only revealed Deceit's name, but started to accept him. That video inspired me to write again, but making Jan a good guy was a hard task. Orange was a last minute add in, and also at one point a mob boss? IDK, this character is still shaky. I reread the last few chapters, and ISTG all he does is laugh. Like a cartoon villain.


End file.
